Black Hills Holiday
by Bad Company
Summary: The National President has made the 2017 Sturgis Rally a mandatory run for all the west coast charters of the Sons. Mini story set after "Gets in Your Blood".
1. Black Hills on the Horizon

**Black Hills Holiday**

**Co-written by Bad Company and Reapergirl**

**AN: **This is the beginning of the continuation of Ava and Juice's story, and it also brings Kozik's girl Cassie into their world. We're still working away on the Koz/Cassie spinoff, but for now, the crew is headed for Sturgis. This is a small story to bridge "Gets in Your Blood" to "We Are Young". So if you haven't read "Gets in Your Blood", be warned that this won't make a whole lot of sense.

**Synopsis: **Sturgis, South Dakota is the home of the world famous Sturgis Motorcycle Rally, and this year, the National President has made it a mandatory run for all the west coast charters of the Sons. Ten days in biker paradise. Juice and Ava have been married since April, and are trying to get pregnant. Kozik has been with Cassie Purcell for ten months and she's nervous to meet his Charming family on this trip.

**Disclaimer: **This is a work of fiction and we claim no ownership of any copyrighted characters or places mentioned herein. The saloon is loosely based on a real establishment which we will not be referring to by name. We also do not claim to portray outlaw MCs in complete and total accuracy – any discrepancies are our fault. Ava Ortiz belongs to Bad Company and Cassie Purcell belongs to Reapergirl.

Thank you in advance to all you amazing readers and reviewers out there. We hope you enjoy the ride!

…

**1: Black Hills on the Horizon**

"Come on, baby. Come on, come on, come on."

Juice fished a quarter out of his pocket and tilted it on its side, using the edge of the coin's ridges to scratch off the two lottery tickets he'd just bought. He'd been an occasional lottery player before, but now, he was habitual. Silver flecks went everywhere as he dashed the quarter back and forth, chanting in his head for this just to be the one. In the past few months, he'd won a grand total of five dollars. But that didn't discourage him – just made him all the hungrier for the two-hundred and fifty thousand dollar big jackpot.

The first ticket was a bust. He set it aside and turned to the second one, still holding onto a tiny scrap of hope. That hopeful, optimistic side of his personality was what all his brothers attributed to the speed at which his life had changed since April. And that speed was nothing short of breakneck.

"Ah," he heard Chibs over his shoulder. "Sammy-boy, tell your Pops he ain't gonna win this one neither." The Scot held the fifteen-month-old boy on his hip as he perused the aisles of the gas station's food mart. "You want the regular or the fancy shit?"

"Regular," Juice murmured, distracted, as he scratched the last box in the row. He sighed. Nada.

Chibs came up to the counter and set down the "regular", a twelve pack of Budweiser. Sam was babbling something that must have made sense in his own head, his few definitive words mixed in: "Da-ee" for Daddy, "Muh-muh" for Mama, "ook" for cookie, and several others that Juice understood though they sounded nothing like the source of their meaning.

"Any luck, kid?" Chibs asked, though it had to be obvious the way Juice shoved the quarter back in his pocket and crumpled up the two tickets that there had definitely been no luck.

Juice snorted. "I'd say that I have bad luck, but I'm pretty sure you have to have _some _luck before it can turn bad."

The VP shrugged and repositioned his hold on Sam. "Always next time then."

Juice smiled grimly at his father-in-law's optimism. It was a bit of a role reversal, really, he himself having always been the eternal optimist. He supposed that since he knew he'd keep scratching tickets until they quit selling them, his optimistic side was still hanging around. It just wasn't so loud and obnoxious as it used to be.

Having a wife and a kid did that to a guy – made him practical and cynical. In a good way, though, definitely a good way. Being responsible for someone besides himself was healthy; he thrived on it in fact.

The clerk – a kid probably in his late teens or early twenties with acne so bad it was painful to look at – pulled the beer across the counter and consolidated it with the pack of Sour Punch Straws and two liter Coke Juice had already set beside the register. "This it?" he asked, running the barcode reader over the Budweiser until it beeped.

Chibs threw a _Guns & Ammo _in with the other stuff. "Aye." And then fished for his wallet with his free hand.

"Nah, I got this," Juice protested, digging into his own pocket.

"Nope." The Scot had already thumbed his credit card over to the clerk. "I like to spoil the boy."

Juice chuckled; none of what they'd bought could be enjoyed by "the boy".

The clerk passed Chibs' Visa back and then stood frozen a minute while the register confirmed the purchase with its usual whirs and electronic scratches. His mouth dropped open as he looked between them. And then, still wide-eyed and slack-jawed as a trout, asked ", so…did you guys like…adopt, or something?" He pointed at Sam.

It took Juice a good three seconds to figure out the root of the question, and by that time Chibs was already mumbled something heavily accented to himself and heading for the door – beer in one hand and baby in the other. "You be careful what you say in this town!" he hollered back at the clerk.

Juice frowned and snatched up the other bag. "Ditto that…ya know, _or something_." He meant it as a threat, and the kid took it as one, face going white beneath his zits. He kind of liked it when the baby earned him female attention. Being accused of life-partner-co-adoption was a first. And though it left him wanting to flash pictures of the little missus and might have stirred up some solitary confinement prison imagery he'd just as soon have lobotomized out of his head – certain people in his family no doubt thought that was a good idea anyway – it was still kind of funny.

Chibs thought so too, because as he joined him at the truck, the Scot was chuckling. "No offense, Juicy-boy, but if I'm adopting babies with a Puerto Rican…she better have bigger tits than what you've got."

**-O-**

"I'll admit I had my doubts after I saw the dress, but this is actually beautiful."

The banquet hall across the parking lot from the Methodist church had been transformed into a midnight garden party with all the trimmings. White wood lattice screens discretely separated the buffet line from the tables and the dance floor, breaking up the huge rectangular room so that guests could shift through what felt like several open, airy rooms. Potted ferns and hydrangeas, roses, ficus trees that had been wheeled in on hand trucks because the glazed pots were so heavy and dozens of free-standing vases full of cut wildflowers were grouped in artful displays – the smell of so much real greenery almost overwhelming indoors like this. The tables were draped with white cloths, more vases in the centers of each, a million twinkling Christmas lights bundled inside gauze panels affixed to the ceiling created an outdoor star effect. Couples swayed on the dance floor to the drowsy beats of jazz music. And Ava couldn't believe that _this _was what her best friend's wedding had turned out to be.

Ava nodded in agreement with her mother – they were seated at one of the round tables, enjoying the lull in attention now that the ceremony was over and she was no longer rooted in place beside Caroline up in front of a whole church full of people.

"It's really amazing what a whole army of Kansas housewives can accomplish overnight."

Maggie tried and failed to bite back a grin. Getting acquainted with Caroline's new in laws had been…_interesting_ to say the least. Her fiancé – now husband – Josh, was an aerospace engineer, a graduate from Stanford who'd been working in Sacramento temporarily. And he was a hell of a sweet guy, was good to Caro. But the family – the whole lot of them in town from Kansas – had had very firm ideas about the wedding. And Caroline hadn't the heart to displease Josh's family, so she'd worn old Mother Whitcomb's dress, the revered grandmother, and likewise Ava and the rest of the bridesmaids had been "asked" to wear the teal dresses from the Whitcomb-Bradshaw wedding of 1954.

The dress. God save her from the dress. It was a full-length, rumpled taffeta nightmare with a tulle embellishment on the skirt, puffy Princess Di sleeves, complete with a giant bow perched right over her ass, the tails of which trailed down and got tangled up in all the tulle. After Juice had gotten his laughter under control, which had been bad enough to set Sam into a giggle fit too, and then both her guys had been in hysterics, he'd managed to compose himself and had played Mr. Bright Side. _It's not that bad. It makes your tits look huge. _Whatever. The only bright side to this whole thing was that she'd never have to wear it again.

The chair to Ava's right scraped across the floor as Carter returned, his plate heaped with mini quiche, cucumber sandwiches, meatballs on tooth picks and a token spoonful of fruit from the finger food buffet. The reaper on his back hadn't changed the fact that he was still a blonde, blue-eyed pretty boy who gave Jax a hell of a run for his money in the handsome department. And for Caro's wedding, he'd even scraped up a white shirt and tie. He wore his hair buzzed close these days, more efficient, but that combined with the sunburn on his forehead didn't exactly scream "biker". But he was, and aside from her mom, he was the only MC affiliated attendee at this wedding.

"Trip number three," Ava said with a grin, meaning his latest visit to the buffet.

He speared a chunk of pineapple with his fork and shrugged. "I didn't eat lunch hoping we'd have steak or something."

She pulled on one of her satin, poofy sleeves. "_This _dress and you were thinking steak?"

He grinned. "Too bad they aren't gonna let you keep that thing."

"I offered to buy it from the manic-in-law," Maggie said, smiling at her own nickname for mother of the groom ", but no deal."

Carter's grin widened and then he did a visual sweep of the reception, much as Ava had been doing herself. "When's Juice getting here?"

"He's not," she smiled wryly. "He chose to play the Old Man card and invoked his right to babysit with Granda."

"Lucky shithead," Carter pulled at his tie.

Caroline and Josh were making the rounds, coming to each table and passing out hugs and thank yous. Ava pushed aside the plate of grapes and strawberries she'd been nibbling and dabbed her mouth with a ridiculously delicate lace napkin as she saw the couple heading for their table.

Caroline's dress was even more elaborate than the God awful bridesmaid gowns – the lace at the neck going all the way up to her chin with at least a dozen tiny pearl buttons running down the middle of her throat to the top of her modest cleavage. At least, it was where her cleavage was, not that it could be seen. The stiff satin bodice rode a good six inches above anything that might have been considered the boob area. Modest was an extreme understatement. And the train had to be four feet, the veil a heaped mess of netting that looked designed for bee keeping.

But Caro was beaming and Josh looked pretty happy too.

"Hey, guys!" Caroline had to shout above the din of voices and jazz music.

Ava stood and both their dresses hampered their efforts to hug. "Congrats," she squeezed her friend tight. "You look beautiful, even with the dress."

"Liar!" Caroline accused, but when she pulled back her eyes were wet with happy tears, She took both of Ava's hands in her own. "I'm so glad you're here. Look at us, both married. We're so boring!"

"I'm gonna go with sane," Ava laughed. "We're both _sane_."

Caro hugged Carter and Josh waved hello to them all, and then they were off and moving again. Ava started to feel the stirrings of butterflies as she realized that once the couple of honor were back at their table, dinner would be served and it would be time for Ava to give her maid of honor toast.

"I think I have stage fright," she mused.

Carter snorted and it was a miracle a grape didn't come shooting out of his nose when he did so. "Please! I've seen you get on a table and tell a whole herd of sweetbutts where they can stub out their smokes….no way do you have stage fright."

**-O-**

Janine Devine had been Tacoma's unofficial queen bee for a while now. The newly retired President Otter had been a bachelor ever since he'd divorced his first and only wife ten years prior. Glen, Janine's husband and Old Man, had been a rock-steady VP and without any children of her own save for the black and white Papillon currently resting beneath her chair, Janine had happily stepped up to the challenge of organizing the club's PR and in general mothering all the boys who needed mothering. Every Sunday she cooked enough dinner for all the Tacoma MC bachelors, one of which had been Koz for a long, long time. Right up until ten months ago.

Cassie knew all of this because Janine was a chatterbox. A story was never just a story with her – it took a hundred twists and turns, doubled back and went on tangents that could leave your head spinning if you weren't careful. But through it all, Cassie had learned a lot around the Devines' dining room table that Koz probably would never have shared seeing as how he wasn't a gossip, and wasn't a woman.

"…the recipe is a breeze," Janine was saying, and paused to take another sip of red wine. "Parmesan cheese on top and you're ready to pop back in the over for another five." She gestured toward the mostly empty casserole dish in the middle of the table, and then blanched. "Oh, shit, honey," she turned apologetic eyes up to Cassie. "That won't work. I wasn't thinking about Luc…but you don't need the cheese. You could just go with the bacon."

Cassie smiled. "Trust me, Luc not eating the green beans had nothing to do with dairy."

To Janine's left, April Hunt nodded vigorously. "It don't matter what you put on 'em, the kids know they're still veggies." April and her husband Boone had three kids, all between the ages of four and ten, and they were serving as Lucas's playmates for the duration of the dinner party. Through the open French doors between the neighboring living room and back deck, Cassie could hear their voices as they played in the back yard.

It was after eight, and not quite dark yet, the evening unusually muggy. The men had vacated the dining room now that the meal was over and were in front of the TV with beers, awaiting dessert. The women hadn't gotten up yet, still shooting the shit around the long table that was cluttered with dirty dishes and empty bottles. It was your basic Saturday night SOA dinner party, and now that she was no longer the newbie, Cassie didn't just love the dinners, but felt comfortable at them.

But with this many men, there was always a newbie. Tonight, her name was Elisa and Jinx had brought her. She looked nervous, hesitant, well-dressed and decidedly _normal_, not at all Jinx's type. And though she was trying hard, she had no idea that Jinx never planned on bringing her back to another of these functions – she was merely the flavor of the week.

"Jinx told me you guys were all going on some big road trip coming up?" Elisa asked, making a stab at polite conversation.

"Well I'm not," April said. "Last time I left the monsters with a sitter that long, poor thing changed her number afterward just to avoid my calls. Not that I blame her. If I didn't think they'd sniff me down like dogs, I'd skip town and change _my _number too."

"Me neither," Stacy spoke up, passing a hand over her hugely pregnant belly.

'That reminds me," Janine snapped her fingers. "Stace, you still haven't given me the hotel info."

"I haven't?" she frowned. "I coulda sworn I did."

Janine sighed and cut her eyes over to Cassie in a gesture that clearly said _can you believe this bitch? _

"I can look into it," Cass offered. "Sundays are my lazy days."

"No, no, no. Stacy can handle it, right?"

The willowy red head nodded. "Right-o, Mama Neenie."

Janine hid her sigh behind another swallow of wine. "Come on, girls, let's clean this place up."

**-O-**

Never had the sound of a fork against a champagne flute seemed so loud. But Ava couldn't take the gesture back and, as if by magic, the noise in the room died down to only the softest of sounds like the rustling of many bird wings. The jazz was cut off abruptly. And to her horror, all eyes swiveled in her direction.

She was on the dance floor, backed up against the table where the DJ was working, his mic in the hand that still held the fork. _This is it. _She took a deep breath, reminded herself that she knew this toast inside and out, and then she scanned the crowd and saw her best friend beaming at her and the stage fright started to melt away.

At the table beside Caro, her parents sat with the other bridesmaids, Caro's first cousins – all tiny, adorable Korean girls with flawless skin and perfectly shiny black hair. The Kims had always been so sweet to Ava growing up; oblivious to the SAMCRO vs. town politics that went on in Charming.

Back at her table, Ava saw her mother and Carter watching her. Carter made a stupid face. She could do this.

"I met Caroline in ninth grade," she began, and felt a warm smile take the last of her nerves away. "She had this huge skunk stripe of purple in her hair and she wanted to know where I got my 'amazing' AC/DC original concert shirt."

There was a soft murmur of laughter, though she noticed that most of Josh's family was silent. Oh well, this toast was for Caro, not the in-laws.

"Since then, she's been the best friend a girl could ask for. She's kind and loyal, patient when she shouldn't be, inappropriate when she definitely shouldn't be," more laughter, louder this time ", and I have no idea how she's put up with me all these years." For the first time, emotion took a strong hold of her throat, tightening her words and bringing tears to the backs of her eyes. "Caro, you were there for me through all my dark times, even the darkest, and I can't tell you how lucky I feel to have had you there with me."

Caroline dabbed at her eyes.

"I love you, girl, and I'm so glad you've joined the old married ladies club. You landed a good one with Josh," okay, this was getting too cheesy even for her, but still… "I hate that he's stealing you away home to Kansas," more laughter ",but you know I'm so happy for you."

Ava lifted her glass high and watched the other guests do the same. "So here's to you, Caroline and Josh. Wherever love takes you, and whatever life throws at you, don't forget to say 'I love you', because it's amazingly hard to find someone who loves you enough to say it and mean it."

**-O-**

Cassie wiped her hands dry on a dish rag and surveyed the kitchen. With Janine directing, the mess had disappeared quickly. Cass and the other girls, a couple of which were sweetbutts and a few other Old Ladies she hadn't ever spent much time with, worked well together even if not always willingly on some of their parts. When Stacy started whining again, this time about her feet hurting, Cassie excused herself and went to check on Luc.

The men and the kids had traded places; all the Sons now on the back deck with cigars and the kids were camped out on the couch and the floor in front of the tube.

"Hi, sweetie," she propped her elbows on the back of the chair he was sitting in and leaned over it. "How's the leg?"

Her five-year old son gyrated the ankle of the leg that was fresh out of its cast, "Fine, see? I so coulda played with the older kids 'stead of stayin' on the deck playin' Thomas the Tank Engine with Cleanser Boy."

"Excuse me?" Cassie's eyes followed Luc's nod towards where April and Boone's four-year old son lay curled up on the couch sleeping.

"His name's Ajax, Mom. Come on! It's what his brothers call 'im. He totally doesn't even care."

The kid did have a valid point. April – not her real name, but rather her month of birth – was Greek and her choice of husband, a non-Greek first and an outlaw biker second, had _so_ upset her family that she'd apparently tried to kiss-ass by naming the grandkids in Greek tradition. Hence; Declan, Nikos and _Cleanser Boy. _Cassie shook her head in wonder while, seated in front of her, Luc yawned. "We should get going," she said, glancing at her watch ", it's after nine."

"Aw, come on Mom… twenty more minutes… this show will be over." Luc had his head pitched back and she could see him staring at her from the tops of his green eyes, pleading.

Just as an on-screen explosion grabbed Lucas' attention, the sudden feel of a hard body sidling up against her from behind grabbed Cassie's. A smile flickered across her lips as a familiar hand rested on her hip and chin propped on her shoulder. Koz mimicked ", come on Mommy, please!" with a chuckle.

She sighed. "As soon as the show is over we're leaving, alright Lucas?" The little boy nodded, eyes glued to the television. She felt Koz straighten his stance and take a step back, giving her room to do the same. At a nod of his head, she followed him into the hall off the living room.

With the world outside the house finally settling down for the night, the hall was lit only by the soft, butter-yellow glow of a small lamp on a decorative table. As Cassie put her back to the wall, Koz stepped in front of her, eclipsing the lamplight, a tall, broad-shouldered shadow who moved in close enough to make their position look much-too-intimate if someone stumbled upon them. But no one did, and she thought the casual way he propped a hand on the wall beside her head was sexy as hell. Her shoulders subconsciously came away from the wall and her head tipped back, feeling pulled to him like she was a loose handful of rusty nails and he was one hell of a magnet.

He cocked his head and smiled. "Having a good time?"

"Having a great time. You know I like your friends... I just have to get Luc home. It's past bedtime and he needs a bath , which will likely get put off until the morning anyway." She shrugged. He was figuring out how that whole bedtime/bath routine went down, and knew it didn't always go as planned.

He nodded. "I'm gonna be tied up here for a while yet."

"Okay. Should I expect you or..?"

"Whatdaya think?" the look on his face, the tone and little twist to his grin left little to ponder.

"I think you're at my house enough to qualify for an official address change."

He _tsked _against the inside of his cheek in mock disapproval, the light in his eyes giving away what his non-response of "yeah" didn't. Then he smiled, leaned down to press a quick, but hot kiss to her mouth, and pulled back just a fraction. Far enough to say ", see ya soon," in a way that left her stomach feeling tight.

**-O-**

"Aw, where's the dress?"

Ava jumped about a foot as she jerked away from the open fridge she'd been peering into. Her hand fluttered over her thumping heart. She'd recognized the voice the instant she'd heard it, but hadn't been able to control her startle reflex.

Her hubby was sneakier than he used to be; a little quieter, a little lighter on his feet. When he wanted to be. Juice was propped up in the shadowy doorway of the kitchen and his smile proved that he'd been sneaking on purpose this time

"Jerk," she muttered, but grinned as she went groping through the various takeout containers again. She found a box of Chinese that was new – obviously he and Chibs' dinner from earlier – and pulled it out, swinging by the utensil drawer to grab a fork.

He chuckled and came into the room, flipping on the overhead lamp. The light blasted through the colored glass panels and like always it made Ava smile, looking at the alternating roses and skulls that decorated the sides.

"Missing it already?" she asked. She was in green running shorts and a white tank top. "They demanded I strip the thing off the moment the limo pulled away. Josh's mother actually wanted me to change behind a potted tree to save the time it would take of going into the bathroom.

Juice laughed and reached toward the box of Mongolian beef she was digging through. She passed it and the fork over. He took a bite and passed it back. "Didn't they feed you guys?"

"Just appetizers. I'm freakin' starving," she said, twirling the strands of green onions clumped up with rice around the fork before popping it in her mouth.

"You sad?"

She sighed and twitched a smile. "Yeah. Damn…I can't believe she's moving to Kansas."

Juice's smile was one of those he saved for when they were alone and not SOA Old Man and Old Lady, but husband and wife. Friends. "You're gonna have to make some new girlfriends." He said only half joking, knowing how skeptical she was of outsiders, but that all the other Old Ladies were so much older than she was, not to mention some of them related to her, that it felt too much like family sometimes and not like a buddy who had her back. She had no one she considered a sister. Except Caro, who would soon be moving halfway across the country.

"Says who?" she asked anyway.

"Says me. The fact that I know exactly what color 'Lacey Lilac' is, is a problem."

"Touché." She chuckled before popping another bite into her mouth. "What did you and Dad do?"

He shrugged. "Watched TV."

"Was there a game on?"

"Nope."

If she hadn't caught him watching it before, she wouldn't have teased, but she had… "You didn't happen to learn how to cook a meal in, say…thirty minutes, did you?" she asked innocently, barely containing her grin.

God love him, but after all they'd been through, the man could still actually blush. "Why do ya gotta give me such a hard time about that, huh?"

"'Cause you looooove Rachael Ray and I think it's cute."

"I only watch it for her ass," he clarified, eyes wide with sincerity. "I don't plan on cooking anything, just so you know."

Ava chuckled and stabbed another hunk of cold meat with her fork. "What would you do if I was that perky?"

"Have you committed_. No one_ should be that perky."

"If I was to say that this Mongolian beef was 'yummo', would that turn you on?"

He gave her a dead look for a moment. "You really are terrible." He shook his head, sighed. "Sooo, change of subject," he switched gears awkwardly. "I finally got all the details hammered out for next weekend."

Ava's eyes widened and she pushed the slimy takeout away. "You did?"

"Yep." He looked proud of himself. "We'll overnight Friday at the Salt Lake clubhouse, which," he shrugged ", is gonna be tight but Rev's Old Lady swears they can lodge us all. And then Saturday night we're in the cabins at the saloon. We're in cabin six with - get this – Carter, Tux, Mayday, RJ from Tacoma, and Koz plus one." He frowned. "Plus one? Is he planning on picking someone up driving down Main Street?"

Ava's grin widened. She knew exactly who his 'plus one' was. She pointed to the glass Tiffany lamp above them. "Plus one," she said. "You honestly think Koz picked out this gorgeous lamp himself?"

He glanced up at their wedding gift that had shipped special delivery from Tacoma. "Um…"

"The girl he's been seeing. Ms. 'Ho-ly Shit'. Cassie."

He still looked puzzled.

Ava sighed. "Well, trust me, this is a real girl he's bringing along. Ten months together and now Sturgis? He's got it _bad_."

One of Juice's more dazzling smiles slowly broke across his face. "Oh, I'm so gonna give him shit about this."

**-O-**

It was twenty till midnight when Koz finally rolled into the driveway of 2808 Vulcante Lane. Like Glen and Janine, Cassie and her son lived in North Tacoma. The North End was a broad term for an area that was comprised of a patchwork of eight smaller, more distinct middle to upper class neighborhoods. It had taken some getting used to, but Koz was finally feeling at home in this deplorably domestic setting. Idling his Dyna Glide, he hit the remote entry code on his key ring and the garage door quietly began to rise. He pulled the bike in and parked it in the empty spot next to Cassie's Maxima. Hanging his helmet from the handlebars, he glanced over at where Luc's battery operated pint-sized Harley sat parked. Shaking his head, he thought, a year ago, bedroom communities and single family homes with two-and-a-half car garages containing kids toys would have sent him running... and now, it was unsettling just how much he couldn't imagine himself anywhere but.

The door leading into the house opened as Cassie entered the garage, a large basket full of freshly cut roses and her gardening sheers in her arms. "I thought I heard the bike," she said, setting the basket on her gardening bench and pulling off her gloves.

He chuckled ", kinda hard not to," then raised an eyebrow. "Um, midnight in the garden?"

"Of Good and Evil. Pretty good book."

"Saw the movie. Kevin Spacey, right?"

"Yeah," she gestured to the basket and the wet splotches down the fronts of her jeans. "I was out back doing my watering…damn water restrictions have me doing this shit under the cover of darkness." As if her own conscious was guilty, she glanced up at him before he could comment. "Do not give me that look. City council can pound sand. I've invested time and energy and love and money into my back yard oasis... and my flower beds. They will _not_ be let to shrivel up and die on my watch."

Again Koz shook his head. "Pound sand, hmm?" She nodded, turning her attention to snipping the roses and arranging them in a vase she'd pulled off a lower shelf of the bench. He had to admit, she was right, though, gardening was a hobby that bordered on obsession for Cassie. When he'd met her in early October , the yard had been full of fall flowers. When the weather turned cold, he'd assumed that was the end of the flowers, but he'd since learned that winter was nothing but the beginning of prep for the next year. Cassie had spent hours cleaning the flower beds that surround the house and planting bulbs. She'd tried to explain what was what and how these would bloom in Spring, and those wouldn't come up until Summer and voiced hostile worry over certain wildlife digging up and making off with her precious bulbs. The lesson in flora and fauna hadn't interested him at all but he had enjoyed staring at her ass for hours. And the bulbs, as promised, bloomed and even _he_ had to admit they made the place look nice. He chuckled "I'd gladly pay your fine just to laugh over the fact that my girl got busted for _unlawful use of water_."

"Five hundred bucks plus court costs for each infraction, and they use the three-strikes system, so apparently jail time could result."

"Holy fuck…well, water your plants in stealth-mode at least 'til after Sturgis, a'ight?"

"Sure thing, baby."

Koz walked over and leaned against the counter where Cassie was working. "Speaking of, Janine has apparently been talking you up to Glen, how helpful you've been in organizing shit for the run… it's appreciated."

"I don't mind helpin', makes me feel… useful. Not like just some decorative piece. And while Janine is a sweetheart, I wouldn't underestimate her capacity for vengeance, but then I don't plan on trying her," she smiled. "You're welcome. Besides I'm just -," she paused, and her hands stilled on the flowers she'd been arranging. Koz got the distinct impression she was searching for the proper words that would best convey what she wanted to tell him. She had a habit of biting down on the left corner of her bottom lip when she was mulling over something. Finally, her fingers took up the rose stems again. "I'm glad you asked me to ride out with you. You wanting me along means a lot"

As was usual with her, she'd said the exact right thing when it came to the club. He wasn't sure if the game was that transparent, or if she was just that sharp - but he was betting on the latter. "So you're excited." He smiled, knowing that she was in that reserved away that he equally appreciated and adored.

She nodded, trimming another stem and placing the rose amongst the others in the large glass vase. "Yes, but honestly more than a little nervous. I get on with a majority of everyone here in Tacoma, but what about the other charters? And your niece? What if she hates me, right?"

Koz sighed. He knew that Cassie – realizing how the club and the all-important small concentration of certain folks down in a place called Charming constituted the end-all-be-all of his near and dear – was stressed about how she'd be received by said certain folks. This was the equivalent of taking her home to meet his parents, which he didn't have – at least not in the figurative sense – and she wanted to make the best impression possible. An image of Ava and Mags standing shoulder-to-shoulder, arms folded, popped into his head and he couldn't really blame her, though he'd never admit to it. "You worry too much." There, that settled that. He was feeling pretty satisfied with his answer, staring blankly at the garage door, when she hissed loudly.

"Shit! Ouch!" She winced, pulling her hand away from the roses and examining the red welt of blood forming where a thorn had pricked her index finger. "That one got me good... the last damn flower too... figures."

Turning sideways and peering over her shoulder, Koz nodded. "Lemme see." He grasped the hand she held out, lightly about the wrist, eyed the cut and then raised it towards his mouth.

"It's bleeding, Koz".

"A lil' blood don't bother me." With a devilish gleam in his eye, he parted his lips and sucked the tip of her injured finger between them. He heard her breath falter and felt her other hand, the one he wasn't currently manipulating orally, grasp tightly at front of his t-shirt, a quiet moan escaping her lips. Feeling stirrings of his own south of the border, he pulled her finger from his mouth. "Gonna need a Band-aid."

Cassie nodded, eyes large, liquid, and telling him exactly how turned on she was. "Upstairs, hall closet." Taking him by the hand, she led the way inside.

Koz reached to the left of the door as they passed through and flipped the light switch, the one right above first-aid kit. The garage was plunged into darkness behind them.

**-O-**

"Night, sweet boy."

He was asleep, on his back with his hands up by his head, face turned to the side; beautiful and perfect and making her heart throb with the most satisfying sense of love and adoration. "Sleep tight, Sammy. I love you," Ava cooed one more time, barely stroking her fingertip across his cheek. She hated the nights she didn't get to put him to bed.

Juice had lingered in the doorway a moment, but she felt his hands slide around her waist as she straightened from the crib. He pulled her back tight against him, kissed the side of her neck. "You really ready for another one?"

Ava had read in one of those whimsical, full-of-themselves novels something about the difference between loving something and knowing why you loved it. She wasn't sure it made it all the stronger than what she'd had before, but it made it more concrete, more solid in her head and heart – she knew exactly each and every reason she loved Juice, the same way she knew all the lines that crinkled in the corners of his eyes and each ragged callus on his hands. She understood it, them, like she did all her favorite books and poems, with a comprehension that was downright scientific, but tinged with a soft fuzziness that left her insides gummy. That shit was titanium. Her answer now was the same as it had been since he'd first asked the question.

She folded her hands over his, fingers ghosting over all his rings, landing on the smooth, plain silver band that was her very favorite. Screw garden parties and toasts and poofy dresses – she had her boys. "Yeah," she turned her head sideways and then his mouth was against the corner of hers. "I really am."

**TBC**


	2. Black Hills Bound

**AN: **We apologize in advance if the updates are a little slow. Collaborations take longer to piece together. You guys can help us though! We know where the characters are going, but specific reviews will really help us figure out what to include along the way. So if you want to see more of something, let us know, please! Thanks.

…

**2. Black Hills Bound**

"Ooh, I think that's them!"

Koz lowered the wrench in his hand and regarded the kid from his position kneeling beside his bike. "Luc, your mom's car isn't red. That ain't them. I thought you were helping Suzy wash the bikes."

Poor shithead Suzy – Koz's Prospect – had the worst nickname on record. But Ryan Sommers had just been too much of a soap opera name for the guys to let it go – everyone conveniently chose to ignore the fact that Berg knew who Susan Lucci was. When asked, Koz said it was his doing because he was such a fan of The Man in Black and "Boy Named Sue", and the dark-haired, tattooed Prospect seemed to appreciate that explanation a hell of a lot more. Either way, the name had stuck, and he was Suzy.

Luc made a face. "It got boring."

"Yeah," Koz sighed, humor nudging his irritation. "Guess I can see that."

"Whatcha doin' to Mistress?" the kid knelt down beside him and examined the shiny guts of "Mistress" – the bike.

"Makin' sure she's running okay 'fore I take her all the way to South Dakota and back."

"How far away is Sou' Dakota? Is it far as Dinah-Gram's house? 'Cause that's as far as I ever been, and it's a looooong way away. You know, my gramma lives where me and Mommy used to live. In Cali_fornia_," he stressed the word like it was very important. "But we don't live there anymore." _Duh. _Koz of course knew all of this already. Luc jumped to his feet again. "That's them, that's them!"

Koz sighed. The green Jetta was _not _them and irritation won out again. He hadn't spent this much one-on-one time with a kid since Ava had been little. And she'd been a quiet, serious little girl…which probably explained her fucked-up buckets of crazy adult personality.

"Well, look at this. Daddy Daycare's open today."

Bill Eberts, better known as the Mayor, was standing on the other side of Koz's bike, arms loosely folded, staring at him down his nose. And as usual, his sarcasm was about as thick as his hairline was thin. He had one of those snake faces that was in a perpetual smirk. And his blue eyes had a habit of reminding Kozik of someone he'd rather not think about. Brothers were brothers…but no one had ever said that all brothers were created equally.

"Eat me," he replied flatly, turning back to his bike.

The soft thrum of a car engine and a blast of music snagged Koz's attention. He stood and glanced over his shoulder. Cassie had finally arrived, and Luc had become preoccupied with a beetle being swarmed by ants over near a dried puddle of something sticky – the boy who'd cried "mom" hadn't even seen her pull in. Koz shook his head at the five-year-old and watched Cass brake her dark blue Maxima to a halt. The windows were rolled up – it was hot and the AC was no doubt running – but the sun roof was open and she had the Go-Gos blasting from the speakers. "We Got the Beat" cut off as she killed the engine and then she and her mother, Dinah, climbed out of the car.

Cassie and her mom had the same bone structure, similar lines to their faces, though Cassie was two inches taller. And if Dinah Brigalia was a peek into Cassie's aged future, it wasn't a bad picture. Today Dinah had her auburn hair pulled back in a gold clip – she had a thing for gold in general. Gold wedding set with a sizable rock, gold watch, delicate gold chains on her two pendant necklaces. She was in white crop pants and a white tank top, red three-quarter sleeve button-up over it. Red leather mules. Dinah was always put together, which was where her daughter had obviously inherited the habit.

In contrast, Cassie's dark hair was loose around her shoulders. She'd changed out of her around-the-house cutoffs and tank top before leaving for the airport, and was now in a clinging halter dress, that wasn't, he noted, the least bit indecent. Her strappy sandals were the same color as the dress.

Mother and daughter both, Koz noted with something like satisfaction, earned nasty glances from the club girls who were smoking over beside the dumpster.

He'd almost forgotten Mayor was still standing beside him until he cleared his throat. "Ya know, Koz, you probably split the age difference between mother and daughter straight down the middle. Or maybe even fall a little on the mom's side of the age bracket…"

"Shut the fuck up."

Luc had the worst timing, and came shuffling over. Still, Mayor gestured toward Dinah. "C'mon, Gramma's still pretty fresh. You tellin' me you wouldn't hit that?"

The kid frowned. "Koz would never hit my gramma," he said seriously. "Mom would get real mad and Gramma would slap him back."

Mayor burst into laughter.

Koz jerked a thumb toward the parking lot to catch the kid's attention. Cassie and Dinah were approaching them, Cass having shoved her Ray Bans up onto her head so they acted as a makeshift headband. She was smiling. "Speaking of your grandma -,"

"Dinah-Gram!" Luc yelled and went bounding toward the women.

Dinah hugged her grandson tightly and then they continued toward his position still standing next to Mistress and Mayor – Jesus, could this asshole not find somewhere else to haunt? Luc was holding Dinah's hand and talking a mile a minute about something she doubtless cared nothing about, but was nodding along with anyway.

"Hey, Dinah," he greeted when she was in earshot. "How was the flight?"

"Hello, Koz dear." She'd only met him once previously but already he was "dear". "It was uneventful."

Mayor smiled. "So you're Cassie's mom, huh?"

Koz shot him a warning look that he ignored, but Cassie was already answering. "She is. Dinah Brigalia." She motioned to Mayor. "Mom, Bill Eberts. Everyone calls him The Mayor."

Koz snorted. "He don't hold the office, but he likes to act like he does."

Bill extended his hand to her. "I'm a take-charge kinda guy is all."

Luc scowled, staring at Mayor's offered shake like he wished he had lasers in his eyes. "Don't shake his hand," he muttered to his grandmother. "He wants Koz to -,"

"Hey, buddy," Koz took the kid by the shoulder, thankfully cutting him off. He knew his grin was fake and ridiculous. "How 'bout you help me with Mistress."

"Really? Yessss!"

By the time he had a rag in Luc's hand and was showing him how he wanted the pipes buffed, Cassie was crouching beside him. "I'll get him out of your hair," she said. "Mom and I'll take him to dinner and then crash early. It's gonna be an early morning."

He nodded.

"You staying here tonight?"

"Yeah, we still got a shi…" he glanced at Luc ", ton of shi…stuff to do tonight." He grinned at her. "I'll see you at six tomorrow though."

Cassie's sigh was one of anticipation, and not dread at the early wake-up call. She stole a kiss. "With bells on."

**-O-**

Ava had trouble sleeping the night before their departure; jittery inside, excitement tingling in the pit of her stomach like a kid waiting for Santa. She was nervous too, though. Leaving was never just a wild, free-spirited, no-strings affair anymore. Sam was going to be left in the more-than-capable hands of her mother and grandmother – Diane watching him at their house during the day and Maggie keeping watch at night. It would be easier on Sam to keep him in his own crib at home and then no one would have to lug his toys and things back and forth. They'd minimized any possible trauma. But there was a small part of her that felt like a bad mother for leaving him behind. She was going to miss him so much. She knew there'd come a time when he was seventeen and giving her snotty looks and it came down to either tossing him out or hitting him upside the head with something, but that time hadn't come yet. And at dinner, eating mashed potatoes and meat loaf, he'd asked ", Muh-muh eeving?" And she'd wanted to cry. She and Maggie had been telling him for weeks that she'd be leaving for a little while, trying to get him used to the idea whether he understood it or not, and he'd finally connected the dots and it broke her heart.

"You feel like you're hooked up to jumper cables, baby," Juice had observed, passing his hands over her skin that felt practically feverish with anticipation. "Like you're electrified or something."

Now, the morning was here and it was one of the brightest, crispest, most beautiful blue mornings she may have ever seen. Or maybe that was just the excitement again. Everything was still fresh: the sky a perfect robin's egg blue, the colors of the landscape vivid, everyone's hair and clothes tidy and clean, the day's heat hadn't yet soaked into the atmosphere and turned everything wilted and sweaty. Ava held Sam and stared down the row of spit-shined bikes, all scrubbed and polished courtesy of the Prospects for the trip. Jax's pickup was hooked to a motorcycle trailer and the two prospects would be following the procession in it. The guys were moving between their rides and the clubhouse, checking their gear, doing last minute tune ups. Ava had long since packed her essentials that now occupied one of the two saddle bags on Juice's Dyna. She hated the look of the bags, but knew it was necessary.

"Look at you," she recognized Gemma's voice and turned to greet her. She had her hands on her hips, looking splendid as ever in black-on-black with heavy rhinestone accents. Her hair was, as always, flawless. "Gimme the baby so I can get the full picture."

Ava handed him over reluctantly – Gemma snuggled him close. She missed not having any grandbabies who were literal babies.

"Boots fit good," the Queen nodded approval.

Ava did a little spin as requested and glanced down at her ensemble. She was in a ribbed white tank top with SOA printed across the chest, her favorite old leather riding jacket that hit above her navel and was covered with zippers and little darts that made it form fitting. Jeans. And then her new boots – a present from Gemma. They came up just shy of her knees and were authentic Harley riding boots, with low heels that would make walking comfortable, but they hugged her calves and would still look cute with the only change of pants she'd packed, a denim mini skirt.

Another nod from Gemma and she was feeling good about her choices. She knew there would be countless women tarted up in bright colored string bikinis flaunting their way down Main Street, but she wanted to look the part of a proud OMC Old Lady.

She glanced across the lot packed with people. Maggie was saying her goodbyes to Chibs and Ava cut her eyes away. She was glad her parents were getting along so well, but she didn't need to _see_ it. Lyla was brushing imaginary dirt off Opie's cut. Clay was walking up and down the lines of bikes, visiting and no doubt wishing he was going along. Juice had his iPod plugged into the dock on top of his fuel tank and was checking that the speakers tucked away in his ferring were working.

"Can I have him back?" she asked Gemma, not wanting to turn loose of her baby until the last minute.

Gemma's answering smile probably had something to do with the fact that Ava had actually asked for permission to hold her own child. "Here," she passed Sam back and then patted him on the leg. He was squirming and babbling and definitely didn't want to be held.

"Da-ee, Da-ee, Da-ee, Da-ee," he said over and over, head swiveling around on his chubby neck.

"As you can tell," Ava said. "Daddy is a rockstar. Who cares about Mom, huh?" she asked Sam, who ignored her and continued to repeat "Daddy". "I'm not putting you down, dude. I'm getting my hugs in before I go."

Maggie joined them, hands stuck in the back pockets of her jeans. "You all set, baby?"

Ava nodded, bouncing Sam in an effort to keep him occupied. "As set as toiletries and three extra shirts can make a person."

"Been there, done that." She shook her head. "You'll have fun…but I don't miss these sorts of things. Watch out for your father," Maggie leveled her a serious look. "Don't let him get drunk and sleep all night in a ditch."

"No ditches. Got it."

"We're countin' on you," Gemma said, equally serious ", to look after all of the boys."

Wow. Just…wow. Tara was the only other SAMCRO Old Lady making the trek. But here the two eldest – and most respected – of the women had laid the burden of responsibility on her. She knew it wasn't literal; she wouldn't have to physically take care of any of them. But somehow, just knowing they expected her to think of all the guys, and not just her own, was a big, scary honor.

"Okay," she agreed, mouth feeling a little dry. "I'll try."

A hand settled on her shoulder and she started. "We're good," Juice said, and returned Sam's wave with a goofy smile.

"You be careful," Maggie told him, moving in for a hug. "Take good care of my girl." She patted him on the back. "And bring her home pregnant!"

"Oh, Christ," Gemma rolled her eyes.

But he gave her a mock salute. "Yes, ma'am."

Ava hated giving Sam up, but she did, with one last kiss and assurance that she loved him to pieces and would be home soon. Then she gave him to Maggie and gave her mom a quick hug. "Thanks," she felt a lump in her throat. "I gotta get outta here before I cry like an idiot."

Everyone was mounted and engines fired up, their growls thunderous against the concrete walls of the clubhouse and garage. Ava swung her leg over the back of Juice's Dyna and found the footpegs out of habit. He passed her helmet back and she snapped it on, the butterflies flapping around in her stomach again.

"You ready?" he called as he revved the throttle and the machine shook beneath them.

She took a deep breath and glanced over where Maggie and Ava were standing. Maggie got Sam to wave. She hooked her chin over Juice's shoulder and took a deep breath. "Ready."

**-O-**

The Redwood Contingency – which is what Ava was calling their caravan, even though the Indian Hills, Fresno and Vegas charters had already hooked onto the convoy – stopped for lunch in northern Nevada at a giant truckstop. The kind with arcades and tractor-trailer sized carwashes and showers for grungy truckers. Ava and Tara took their Subway sandwiches and Cokes and found a shady picnic table, at which Ava immediately set her sunglasses on the bench and sat on them in a mental lapse that left her groaning.

"You think they're fixable?" she asked Tara, dangling them by one earpiece. As if to prove that they weren't, one of the lenses popped out and clattered down onto the table.

Tara suppressed a grin with a bite of her turkey on wheat. "I think you donate half your brain cells to the baby when you're pregnant and then never get them back," she said with a chuckle. "I was helping Johnny put paper in his great big shoes the other morning so they'd fit, and then realized they were _Abel's _shoes."

Ava sighed and popped a chip in her mouth, setting aside her ruined shades. They'd been her favorites: the lenses huge and mirrored, who cared if they made her look like a bug, they were great for people watching. "And just think, I wanna have another one," she said dryly.

"Sam needs a sibling. Jax is an only child – well, bless Tommy -," she shook her head. "And I'm an only child, so are you. Siblings are good."

Ava nodded in agreement. Her thoughts exactly.

"Hey, babe," she heard Juice and twisted around on the bench. He was walking toward the convenience store/tacky-ass gift shop in front of the gas pumps. "You need anything else? Gum? I'm gonna grab some smokes."

"Sunglasses," she called back. "I just broke mine."

"You wanna come pick 'em out, or…?"

"Nah, I trust your judgment. Get something cute," and she turned back to her lunch. Subway was hardly the top of the restaurant food chain, but after so long on the road, the cool turkey, mustard and lettuce was delicious going down her throat with a sip of Coke between each bite.

"Which cabin are you guys in?" Tara asked.

"Six. I think, since there's only one true bedroom in each cabin, they tried to make it one married couple per."

The doc nodded slowly, glancing out across the asphalt that shimmered with heat mirages.

"I get to meet Koz's girl, so that should be interesting."

Tara frowned slightly, in a gesture Ava knew meant that she wasn't up to speed on that piece of gossip. With her duties at the hospital, she wasn't as in the loop as far as club gossip went. And since Koz was, and had always been, an out of town member, Tara had had very little to do with him. He certainly wasn't "Uncle Koz" to her and she probably didn't even register that him bringing someone along to Rally was a big deal.

"Glen was just named president up there, wasn't he?" Tara asked, and her expression was anxious like she thought she might be remembering that tidbit incorrectly and didn't want to put her foot in her mouth in front of the northern charters.

"Yep." Ava nodded. "Janine called to congratulate herself." She smiled at the memory. Janine was one of those people too damn likeable to ever be offensive with her off and on tangents, rambling and gossip.

They finished up their lunches, wadded up the garbage and were discussing their various levels of saddle soreness when Tara paused with her white chocolate and macadamia nut cookie suspended in front of her mouth. "Oh my god," she snorted, and then popped a much too large bite into her mouth to keep from commenting further.

Ava didn't have to wonder for long, because as she followed the doctor's line of sight, she saw her husband coming toward them. He had a plastic shopping bag in one hand, his black shades pushed up on his forehead, and perched on his nose, the tag still swinging from between the lenses, was a pair of sunglasses with plastic, red heart-shaped rims around the plastic, black heart-shaped lenses.

She almost choked.

"Well," Tara chuckled. "The good news is, he got you some sunglasses."

**-O-**

Manhattan, Montana was a far cry from its New York counterpart. They'd ridden through miles of open, flat grassland framed by groves of dark, heavy-leafed trees and winding little creeks that looked like shiny snakes slithering across the tundra. And then the town popped up like so many Monopoly houses bundled up along the road like something out of an old Western.

Tacoma led the way, and behind them the Rogue River and Jolet charters, and a handful of Nomads made a formidable line of bikes. Cassie kept her arms tight around Koz's waist up near the very front of the convoy and watched the town come into focus. It was dusk, and the old fashioned lamp posts were lit. The buildings were old and quaint, shop windows decorated with women's clothes, leather goods, big wheels of cheese and cured sausages. The side streets were narrow little veins that looked residential, bungalows with narrow porches clustered together. She saw more than one mailbox in the shape of a trout, or a moose, a grey wolf. Traffic was light and comprised of mostly pickup trucks and vans. This was a rural area dotted with horse and cattle farms, the town merely a suburban oasis for the ranchers. It was cute and so foreign from the terrain back home that Cass leaned back, her hands on Koz's shoulders, and stretched her sore back so she could check things out as the procession crawled through town.

Stacy Bergen – she of the pregnant belly and whiny voice – had booked them lodging at the Wayward-Ho Motel, and Cassie could see Janine leaning close to speak in her husband's ear and waving directions. Glen, and consequently the rest of the crew, turned down a large side street that teed into Main and the businesses gave way to empty buildings with broken windows. They were quickly in an older section of town that looked like it might have survived a fire at some point, and was no longer inhabited. And then, one more right turn and the motel loomed on the very edge of town, backed by nothing but a parking lot and a long stretch of empty field that disappeared into the ever-darkening tree stand beyond it. Dark but rainless clouds rolled over the sunset, giving the two-story building with its pitched roof an ominous feel. The neon sign out front flickered, and then died, leaving only half of the letters illuminated.

Ho Motel. That's what it said. And if they'd been smart, they would have hauled bed rolls and blankets out into the field behind the motel and camped under the stars.

**-O-**

The _Ho _Motel would have been tan on top and brown on the bottom if the paint hadn't been peeling off in long, dull, lead-based strips. Koz could hear the disapproving whistles and grumbles of his brothers as he slapped his helmet on the handlebars.

"Well isn't this just a budding metropolis," he recognized Suzy behind him somewhere.

Metropolitan wasn't the problem. Absolute shit was.

"Are you shitting me?" Janine shouted. She stood up on the sidewalk and flung her arms in the air. "Fuckin' Stacy…you!" She found Stacy's husband Berg in the crowd and stabbed a finger through the air at him. "If your Old Lady wasn't pregnant, I'd hike all the way back to Tacoma and kick her ass for this!"

"She looked it up online," Berg made a half-hearted protest, arms raised in a helpless gesture. "She said the pictures looked nice."

"Pictures from when? Thirty years ago?"

Koz tuned out the tirade – listening wasn't going to change the course of events to follow – and turned to find Cassie off the bike and on her cell phone. "Yes, Luc, it's me _again_," she said and he knew she had called home to check on the kid now that they had reached their destination.

Around him, the guys were unstrapping saddle bags and chattering.

"…so long as there's a shitter and a pillow, I'm good…"

"…damn, my back hurts like a…"

"…see that place we passed about a mile…"

"You good, brother?" an impossibly deep, loud voice cut through the others the same moment Koz felt a hand on his shoulder. A massive hand, it turned out, because it belonged to one of their Nomads, Mayday.

Mayday had spent a lot of time riding with Happy, and as a result, he'd kept in good stead with all of Hap's close brothers since the guy's passing. Koz liked the gigantic man a lot. "Hey, bro," he took the offered handshake, as always shocked at the size difference between the two of them. "I'm a'ight. You guys hook up with us at lunch?"

"Yeah. Still makin' the rounds." He nodded toward Cassie. "This your girl's first rally?"

Mayday and Cass had met a couple of times, but at big parties where there had been little chance for conversation. "Yeah." Koz glanced over at her, feeling proud. She was sliding her cell back in the little knapsack she was using as a purse.

"Hey, Mayday," she greeted as she joined them. She was always good about remembering names and personal tidbits, made a point of knowing his brothers and not just nodding and smiling. "I haven't seen you since June. How've you been?"

The giant was a sucker for polite sincerity. "Pretty good, ma'am, how 'bout yourself?"

"Dying for a shower, but good."

A sharp whistle snagged their attentions. Janine was on the sidewalk, hands now full of something. Face still a thunderhead. "Okay, I got the keys for everyone who booked a room," she called, voice carrying across the crowd. "Everyone who chose _not _to get a room – good for y'all – extra blankets are in the trailer." She gestured toward the utility trailer the pickup from Tacoma had pulled. "Rooms all have two queens and a bathroom. Except the honeymoon suite, that's one king bed and 'jacuzzi' tub in the bath. Who booked that?"

"Me." Koz raised a two-fingered salute with a grin, earning wolf whistles and comments from the guys.

Janine rolled her eyes and then flipped him the key. Which, when he caught it, he realized was an actual key: the metal variety dangling from a tan, wooden keychain with HS is gold script. "Clerk said it was on the south end under the staircase."

**-O-**

The south end, as it turned out, was bathed in shadow. The door to the room was tucked up under the staircase that led to the second floor walkway, and it was ensconced in absolute blackness, the only light source the dull glow of a Coke machine about ten yards down the wall. Koz felt Cassie's hand curl around his upper arm as she followed him into the dark. Her fingers twitched on his sleeve. He knew this made her nervous. Hell, it made him a little nervous, but that's what he got for watching too many horror flicks. Of course, for him, his nerves centered around his own reaction time should he need to protect her from whatever might lurk in the shadows.

He found the doorknob by feel, same with inserting the key into the lock. A blast of stale air hit him in the face as the door swung open, and for a half a breath, he anticipated any number of murderers to come rushing out of the suite. But all was still, the creak of the door the only sound. And a quick fumble along the wall flipped the light switch. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness.

Koz heard her breath catch in her throat; and not in a good way. He glanced sideways and noted the look of abject disgust that flickered across Cassie's face before she could school her features into a carefully bland expression. He stood beside her in the threshold of the motel room and his thought was: _what a fuckin' shit hole! _He'd maybe bedded down in worse, _maybe_... but not in a long damn time or without alcohol to help him lower his standards. And as he glanced around, trying to see things the way she was, it wasn't pretty.

The honeymoon suite was decked out in a Western motif. The king-sized bedspread had once been a Navajo pattern of cream, green, rust and blue stripes, but was now various hues of dirt. Instead of carpet, the room was floored with discolored, warped and peeling linoleum. The dark splotches could have been age spots, or could have been shit stains for all he knew. The AC hadn't been running and it was hot, and smelled like a high school locker room. The faux wood ceiling fan blades drooped. There was a velvet painting of a fat woman on a horse above the bed.

A sigh drew his attention, and he couldn't help but admire the way she screwed up her courage and took a step inside the room. "It's okay, right?" she muttered, crossing the room and setting the saddle bags she'd had slung over her shoulder down on the wooden table that sat between two dingy upholstered chairs along one wall. Two doors flanked the seating arrangement; most likely leading to the bathroom and a closet – as if anyone staying in this place would take the time to hang up their clothes. The table shifted off kilter, but it held the bags. Barely.

Cassie blew out a breath and seemed almost afraid to inhale again. She turned around and traversed the room, coming to a stop in front of him. Her arms slipped around his waist and she leaned against him, chin resting on his chest, face tilted up so she stared at him.

"It'll be alright," he ran his hands over her back.

She sighed and closed her eyes, turning her head so that now her cheek was resting on his chest. "Serial killers notwithstanding," she joked quietly. He chuckled in spite of the situation – yeah, this place fucking sucked, but his girl was trying to swallow her horror and go with the flow. She kept doing that; proving that she wasn't just in his life, but worked hard at belonging there. He kicked the door shut with the heel of his boot and glanced down to find her green eyes staring up at him again. "I don't need five stars Koz -,"

He cut her off with a laugh that he couldn't bite back. "That's good, sweetheart, 'cause this is about as far away from that rating as you can get... we're probably _negative_a few." She laughed too, and he felt her arms slip from around his waist as she stepped away.

Cassie took a few steps backward, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "You know, we might as well make the most of a bed and some privacy while we have the chance. I've ridden on your bike all day baby," she bravely sat down on top of the still-made-bed ", now I want to rii..." her words cut off the second the corner of the bed gave way with a thud and she was dumped onto the floor.

Koz was dumbfounded into silence. Which was probably a good thing.

Her face registered shock and horror. "OH!... MY-GOD!" she stuttered around a rush of breath as she scrambled to her feet, turning back to stare at the sagging corner of the bed. "I broke the bed! Are you ki – I actually broke the bed!"

Koz could only imagine what was running through her head. But for his part, he knew it was never good for a woman's ego when something broke while she was sitting in/standing on it. The dilapidated old piece of shit had no doubt been rocked one too many times by daylight cash-paying customers, and the slats that held the mattress, not to mention the leg that now protruded at an awkward angle from the wreckage, had finally just snapped. It had nothing to do with Cassie and her hundred-and-thirty-something pounds, but he would have to soothe those ruffled feathers anyway.

"It's fine, baby," he reined in a smile. "It wasn't you -,"

"I know it wasn't." She ran a frustrated hand through her hair and shook her head. "It's just insane to think that motels this shitty still exist outside of Hollywood clichés!"

He snorted a laugh. "Grab your stuff and let's go see if they've got any other rooms open before Norman and Mother show up."

Cassie hefted the saddle bags again. "Half the crew is camped out in the parking lot, Koz," she reminded. "I think this 'honeymoon suite' was the last and nicest of the rooms."

"Guess we'll have to improvise then."

**-O-**

There was a topless brunette standing on a table, swiveling her hips as she unfastened her cutoffs and slowly worked them down her hips. Then men sitting below her smiled and nodded, but it was such a common occurrence that no one was too excited about it. Still, Ava knew that's where Juice's eyes were trained. Chairs were so scarce in the Salt Lake clubhouse that she was forced to sit in her husband's lap, his arm looped casually around her waist as she leaned against his chest.

Chibs, Bobby and Carter were at their table, along with several Utah Sons she didn't know. Tonight, amid the debauchery that was any overnight clubhouse stay, Chibs wasn't her father, but another Son, a brother, and she was completely in Juice's hands for the duration of this trip. Vegas, Fresno and Indian Hills were in-house too, and the room was hot and stuffy with jostling bodies. They had an early morning, but of course a quick beer had turned to a few more beers and some cards had been busted out. Now pool balls cracked, the music was blaring, and the club girls were putting on a show.

Juice was still riveted by the brunette though. Ava watched his adam's apple bob as he swallowed. Maybe it was the smoky, sin-infested room, maybe she was too tired to care…but she moved around on his lap so her legs were split over his, her back to his chest, and watched the action.

The brunette was squeezing her tits together and doing a little twirl for her audience. She pinched her nipples and pitched her head back, knew just how to arch her back so that her stomach was sucked flat and her ass popped out. When she dropped to her knees on top of the table, hand thrusting beneath the lace scrap of her thong, hips rolling, Ava felt Juice shift beneath her. She knew it was an act on the girl's part – she wasn't really that turned on, but it got the attention of the sweaty, bearded bikers standing around her and they hollered their approval. In a matter of seconds, one of them was pulling her off the table, and Ava didn't miss her grin. What was a little public masturbation if it got your ass a ticket to Sturgis? The guys always bought it though. Always.

She moved her own hips in a slow circle and Juice's arm tightened around her. "Like what you see?" she whispered over her shoulder. He was hard, she could feel it, but wanted the visual confirmation and craned her head around so she could meet his gaze. His eyes were wide and dripped with unmasked intentions. She smiled. "You wanna find a room?"

One of his hands slipped across her denim-clad thigh and between her legs. "Hell yes."

He walked behind her and she knew they looked like those couples at the fair who were practically dry humping while they waited in line, but the room was so crowded that walking quickly wouldn't have been possible. The Utah clubhouse was long and narrow, with dorms on the first and second floor, but all the doors were shut. And most of them didn't even have to be knocked on to know what was going on inside.

Juice put his back against the wall up on the second floor and sighed in frustration. She felt more than a little guilty for leading him on, but in a good way. Guilt had a way of breaking through inhibitions. Ava smoothed her palm over his belt buckle, and then cupped the hard bulge in his jeans, leaning into him, stretching up on her toes. He snorted and it ruffled the soft wisps of hair that had escaped her ponytail.

"In the hall?" he asked with disbelief. "You're killing me here."

"We're all alone. It'll be okay."

"Alone for how long?" But his hand was fitted loosely around her throat, pulling her to him.

She darted her tongue out and ran the tip across his lower lip. "It won't take long."

Ava had learned that goading Juice didn't lead to discomfort, but rather, he took it as a challenge. And usually proved her wrong – which was always her hope. He took hold of her upper arms and rolled her along the wall until she was the one pressed up against it, him pushing into her. His kiss was wet, warm and beer-flavored. His ornate belt buckle hit just above the low-riding waistband of her jeans and she tilted her hips until it dug into her belly hard enough to brand her skin with the outline of the wreathed skull. His hands skipped across her body, squeezing her tits hard before they started creeping beneath her shirt, his calluses rough on the tender skin of her ribcage. There was always going to be something terribly hot about having to tip her head back and crack her jaw wide enough to keep up with the mauling of an up-against-a-wall kiss. The hardness of the varnished wood against her back as she was smashed against it by his body was exciting and forbidden. Yeah, Juice was a doofus and a nerd, but he'd obviously used that to his advantage – had learned her body in a way that was purely about pleasure and not about proving a point.

She looped her arms around his neck and flattened her chest to his, his kiss trailing down her jaw and throat. He sucked at the tender little spot right above her clavicle and she dug her nails into the backs of his shoulders. _Snap. _The catch on her bra came loose. His hands smoothed up the length of her spine, and then one was pushing past the waistband of her jeans, palming her ass. Ava was well aware that things were about to get totally stripped down in the hall, and she couldn't bring herself to care. Her sore, tired muscles felt renewed under his touch. And she'd spent all day on the back of his bike, clinging to him…

The door nearest them opened with a pop of the lock and a loud groan of old hinges. Startled, Ava's first reaction was to straighten away from the wall. But Juice – and she couldn't help but admire the change in him over the past couple of years – immediately pinned her to the wall with a hand on her shoulder, only turning his body a fraction so he still partially covered her. He was protecting her, keeping her shielded from the eyes of whoever was about to come out of the dorm room, and it warmed her tiny little heart to no end.

A peal of high-pitched female laughter preceded the couple that came staggering out in the hallway. The woman was young, pretty, looked like a local high school grad who'd wandered into the party. Her pants were still undone and her panties were pink. The guy was in his thirties, medium build, a thick head full of movie-star dark hair. Good looking, but his nose was a tad crooked, like he'd suffered a bad break and it had never healed properly. He almost seemed a little familiar – the nasty smile and dark beady eyes.

Ava sucked in a sharp breath the same second Juice propped a hand beside her head on the wall and leaned over her, keeping her wrapped up tight. The guy was the same Johnny Depp look-a-like who Ava had tried to tempt at a SAMCRO party. Almost two years ago, when she'd been a bundle of raging pregnancy hormones – and, if she was honest, had been plagued by nothing short of insanity – she'd gone looking for a fight, and she'd found one. Mr. Nasty Smile had wailed on Juice, right up until the animal had come out. Until the steady, sweet side of Juice had snapped and given way to a darker, edgier version of her man. And he'd pounded this guy's face to a messy pulp.

Her hope that the Utah son had forgotten about the match was dashed the second his eyes locked on hers. He came to a halt, the girl stumbling at his side. "S'up, man?" he greeted Juice, his tone icy.

"Hey, Roman." Juice had his ass-kicking voice dusted off and out of its box.

Roman, that must have been his name, snorted and twitched a glance toward Ava. "They don't have any other tail in Charming?"

Juice was livid. She could see a vein throbbing in his temple. "Watch what you say about the _wife_."

He twitched his brows once. "Huh." And then started down the hall again. "C'mon, Candy."

"Um, it's Carol," she heard the girl say before they started down the steps.

Juice followed their departure with his eyes, rolling his lips into hard-pressed lines, eyes narrowing.

"Baby," Ava prodded gently, reaching up to touch his taut cheek. "It's okay."

His head swiveled toward her slowly, and the dark look in his eyes left her knees feeling weak. "That guy's an asshole."

"He is."

She was afraid their moment had been ruined, but then he grinned. She met his descending kiss, and this time, the steamy warmth of arousal was tinged with a hint of possession – the way his tongue pushed into her mouth and his hands started feeling greedy on her hips. They were past the bullshit; Roman, and consequently, their shaded past, wouldn't ruin their evening. But Juice was a changed man. He'd never be the pre-funeral, pre-her Juice that he'd been before.

He pulled her into the abandoned dorm room – thankfully there weren't other couples in there – and whipped her shirt off her head, her already unfastened bra getting torn from her arms in the process. But then he stopped, took her face in his hands, and kissed her forehead. "I love you, you know."

She smiled. Rested her hands over his wrists. "I know you do."

The room was a sparse, smelly space; it reeked of sex and cigarette smoke. The rumpled sheets were definitely a no-go. He still cradled her face and his thumb skimmed across her cheek. "But…I really don't wanna fuck you in the same room that asshole was just in."

She nodded. Though disappointed, she was in complete agreement. She wriggled back into her shirt, but stuffed her bra in his cut pocket. "Save that for later." And he towed her back out into the hall as the search continued.

**-O-**

Koz found Suzy at his post watching over the Tacoma fleet of bikes and offered him a quick up-nod. "If you ever even dream of having a Top Rocker, it would be beneficial for you to steer people clear of the pool are for the next hour."

The Prospect eyed his sponsor. "You're not seriously thinkin' of taking a dip in the Black Lagoon back there, are you? I think all the black shit is actually moldy algae."

Cassie appeared, still carrying the saddle bag, three beers, two bottles of water, and two blankets. She handed one beer to Koz and flashed a kind smile to Suzy. "Hey, Rye. Beer?"

Koz nodded, allowing it, and the Prospect took the beer with an honest "thanks". Koz draped an arm across Cassie's shoulders and steered her away. "Not swimming."

The "Black Lagoon" was fenced in by chain link back behind the motel, the wilderness just beyond the concrete pad. It was dark and oddly quiet, and already he could feel her relaxing against his side. Obviously, she didn't think an axe murdered was about to leap out of the shadows back here.

But the second they slipped through the gate, a flood light that was obviously rigged to a motion detector flared, washing the pool and surrounding area in blinding white light.

"Shit," Cassie muttered, squinting. She ducked out from under his arm and he let her go, finding the pool skimmer leaning up against the fence. There were cobwebs gluing the thing to the chain link, and he grimaced. Clearly the pool wasn't skimmed often. It would do the job he wanted it for, though, and he rammed the handle into each of the glaring bulbs, dousing them in welcome darkness once more.

When the bright spots had cleared from his eyes, he saw that Cassie had selected the sturdiest, cleanest of the resin lounge chairs and had hauled it up into a secluded corner by the concrete outbuilding that housed the pump and – maybe – pool chemicals. She had set down their beers and waters, stowed the bag beneath the chair, and was laying out the grey fleece blankets with care.

He smirked. She was all about finding luxuries where there were none.

**-O-**

He would have rather been in a bed, but slightly reclined in a lounge chair, at least he could stretch his legs. Cassie was sitting astride his lap, her right arm draped casually around his neck, the fingers of that hand messing with his hair; a move he would have found as annoying as fuck if anyone but Cass was doing it. Nobody touched his hair as a rule save him and Lou the barber. But Cassie, he's found, despite appearances, loved to break rules and push limits.

Her head was turned and she brought her beer to her lips, took a long pull and then brought the sweating bottle to her temple and held it there, attempting to alleviate some of her own sweating. The day had been a record-setter, reaching the mid-nineties, well above the average eighty-five for this time of year. Heat still clung to the night air and it was humid, which meant rain could be in the area. They were all praying that any downpours held off.

Cassie took another sip and then set the bottle on the ground next to the chair, turning her undivided attention his way.

Lightly at first, their lips brushed together, coaxing one another. Her fingers traced patterns on the back of this neck. Through their layers of clothing – her jacket, his cut – he'd felt her tits pressing against his back all day, and now, his hands found their way to her chest. He cupped a breast in each hand, lightly molding. He wasn't being conceited – he knew it was his mouth and hands pulling her closer, quickening her breathing between kisses. He squeezed her tits a little harder, bringing her even closer…

And then just as quickly he was pushing her away. He slammed back against the lounge chair. "Get up!" he hissed, and she leapt to her feet. She looked startled and concerned as he swung his legs over the side of the chair and stood, cussing, and massing his hamstring. Fucking Charlie horse…he was prone to leg cramps – he'd been known to seize up and have to stagger out of bed in the middle of the night – but this was one wicked spasm. He walked it off a moment, trying to remember how much water he'd had that day. Dehydration always made it worse. But it was usually his calves giving him fits, and not the hammies.

"Cramp, baby?" she asked knowingly. He'd scared her the first time it had happened at her house, and he smirked at the memory. But she'd since become used to the process.

"Yeah." And after another minute the son of a bitch had worked itself out. He settled back down in the chair, this time motioning for her to sit between his legs.

She did, lying sideways with her torso against his chest, her head on his shoulder. She settled her hand gently on top of his still-throbbing leg.

After a moment, she reached inside his cut and flannel shirt and curled her hand around the butt of one of the two guns he kept in his shoulder holster. She knew he liked to sleep on his left side, so she slid the piece from its holster and then deftly leaned back to deposit in the saddle bag.

"Thanks, baby," he said, squeezing her hip.

She settled against his chest again with a smile.

**-O-**

"It's a laundry closet," Ava's voice was flat. She sighed. "You know what -,"

"Hey, now, don't gimme that," Juice chastised lightly, earning a single arched brow in answer. "Yeah, it's a laundry closet, but no one else is in here. Totally private."

She didn't look convinced though, massaging her forehead right between her eyebrows. "I'm sorry I even tried to start something. It's late and you've gotta be exhausted…" her protests trailed off when he took hold of her hand and pressed it to the front of his jeans. "Still?" she asked, a smile breaking out across her face.

"All the time," he scoffed, because fake bragging always made her laugh, and she did. Until her eyes were dark little slits.

"You feeling creative, then?"

He pulled her into the closet and pushed the door shut with his shoulder. It was small, pitch black and stuffy, A quick scan of the wall with his hand proved that either the light switch was outside, or there was a pull cord overhead somewhere. The dryer was running with a steady thump and it was making the air around them hot as hell. "I can't see anything," he grumbled.

"You don't need to see." He felt one of her hands on his chest. Her touch trailed down until her fingers hooked into his belt. "Just feel me."

Okay, that he could do. Her bra was still in his pocket and he found the soft, round swells of her tits through the fabric of her shirt. He liked the separation the material provided, the mystery of it. He cupped them, squeezing until he heard her murmur approval above the noise of the dryer. His hands slipped under the hem of her shirt, finding her breasts again, rolling her nipples between his fingertips as he pressed his pelvis into hers, trapping her between himself and the dryer.

"Damn," he felt her lips against his neck. "This thing is vibrating like a motherfucker."

Which gave him an idea, but while he was thinking it through, she unfastened his belt and jeans, and then her hand was closing around his cock. He hissed. "Ease up, baby or this show's gonna be over in a hurry."

"Sorry," her fingers uncurled, until there was only the softest of brushes of her fingertips against him.

"You wanna try something?" he asked, eyes closed though it was dark, getting a little lost in her easy touch.

"MmHm."

He found her hips and turned her, slowly so she didn't trip on whatever the hell was in this closet with them. The feel of her ass against his hard-on was killer. And her belly was smooth and soft as he pushed her shirt up and unbuttoned her jeans. He pushed them down clear of her hips, taking her lacy boy-short panties with them, all the way to her knees. But she didn't have to take them off, her boots either. "Lay on the dryer," he whispered in her ear. Then he peeled her shirt off and let it fall into the blackness. Her hair tickled his face and neck. He could feel her quivering with anticipation. He slid his hands up her torso and over her breasts again, pinching her nipples. "Lay down on it flat, okay?"

"'Kay."

He followed her as she moved forward, imagining what it must look like. In his mind, he saw her get up on her tip toes and lay her upper body over the shaking appliance, saw her tits pillow against the warm metal, knew its vibrations rattled through her sensitive nipples and all across her chest. He saw her crawl up until her feet dangled useless a few inches from the floor, her flat lower belly holding her weight – more than likely painfully – against the lip of the dryer.

"You alright?"

She grunted. "It's awkward, but…God, it feels good too. C'mon."

He found her with his hands in the blackness. The ridge of her spine. The plump, tight roundness of her ass. Down further to the sleek wet entrance between her legs. He grabbed a hip in each hand and brought them together, pushing inside her on an easy stroke. And then…Jesus, he could feel the vibrations that rattled through her body, all the way up his cock to his balls. "Oh, fuck me," he muttered.

"I know," her voice was getting high pitched and breathy. "C'mon, baby. Please."

He started slow, withdrawing only a fraction and rocking his hips against her ass, loving the tight, wet grip of her body and the added bonus of the imbalanced dryer. But then he had to move; there just wasn't any way not to move. The metal sheeting of the unit flexed with a sound like special effects thunder, his belt buckle clanged against the front and the sweaty skin of her thighs peeled away from the appliance on each thrust, the slapping sound egging him to go faster, harder.

Ava was panting and moaning and muttering obscenities he couldn't make out. She was gonna have a bruise on her abdomen from this damn dryer, but it felt too good to stop. He slammed into her again and again and again.

She cried out when she came, and her walls grabbed him harder and tighter than a fist. He collapsed on top of her, his face sticking to the damp skin of her back. He stayed like that even once he was through, and he'd stopped pulsing.

The dryer's cycle ended with a loud blast of the buzzer, and then the cramped little place was silent except for their uneven breathing. "That was so hot," he managed after a moment, running his tongue up the rivulet of sweat he felt trickling down her spine.

"Literally. I think I melted."

**-O-**  
>Cassie's long, crossed legs had become intertwined with his good leg as they sat and talked about private things. Things kept secret between the two of them. It was in no way making small talk, but the fragmented bits of conversation served both as an exchange of information, and a way to flirt and relax. Her legs caressed his as they traded comments. He trailed his fingers across her shoulder and down her arm, rubbing little circles across the smooth skin left exposed by her tank top.<p>

He slipped his arm down to encircle her waist, and with a slight nudge of his chin against her forehead, she knew to shift positions so that she rested with her back against his chest. He heard her sigh as he traced a single fingertip across the sliver of her abdomen between her waistband and hem of her top. With pained slowness, he walked his fingers up her belly, inching her shirt up just a little each time. The smooth flat of her stomach looked silver in the moonlight, and he could see the quick, shallow breaths she took reflected in the jump of her muscles.

He nudged her shirt up further, until his thumb brushed against the lace of her bra, and his other hand landed on the button of the denim shorts she'd changed into. God bless super-short, low-riding shorts…he thumbed open the snap and pulled down the barely-there zipper. When he slipped his hand inside, the shorts eased off her hips and Cassie lifted her ass slightly, maneuvering them the rest of the way down. Gravity carried them to her ankles and she pulled her feet through one at a time, then only clad in her thong and tank top.

He cupped her mound and could feel her heat, smiled, and when he felt her shift he knew she was fighting the urge to move her hips and coax some finger play out of him. So he decided to give her what she wanted. He moved her panties to the side; his finger slipped easily inside, she was wet, and her hips began to gently rock in time with the rhythm of his hand, her inner muscles squeezing his probing fingers. She inhaled deeply and then released the breath a little at a time. He felt her jaw grind where her cheek was pressed against his and knew she was biting her lip. When his thumb rubbed against her clit, she released a whimper, and her fingers lightly clawed the forearm of the hand that massaged her breasts.

He was rock hard now, straining almost painfully behind the fly of his jeans where Cassie's swiveling hips and ass were creating a delicious friction that was getting hard to fight. His strokes became more determined, fingers taking her toward her approaching orgasm. She was panting, her breathing pattern peppered with low, quiet little moans that were honest, pure, and turned him on far more than any porn star-esque vocal façade.

"Come on, baby. Cum for me," he whispered next to her ear, running his tongue along its outer contours.

"Fuck!" she cried softly, and then lowered her voice to a hushed murmur. "Mmm, please…please…ooh, there, yeah…right there…_oh_!"

There, of course right there. Koz knew this woman's body inside and out, knew exactly how and where to touch her.

Her orgasm began at his fingertips and he felt it move swiftly through her groin. "Fuuuuuuuuccckkkk," she hissed as her thighs clenched together against his hand, holding him in place. She bucked against his hand as pleasure rippled through her body. Her nipples were hard against his other hand. Goose flesh pebbled her moon-silvered skin. She was gorgeous.

When her thighs finally unlocked, releasing his hand, she relaxed back against him and caught her breath. After a long moment, she twisted, now breathing normally, and stretched up to kiss him, her tongue twining with his. She kissed her way to his neck and shifted positions again, now kneeling between his legs on the chaise. Her hands slid beneath his shirt, nails lightly, lovingly raking over his chest and abdomen, pinching his nipples each in turn.

She reached down and worked open his jeans. He lifted up slightly just as she had done, and she tugged them down – he'd thankfully already toed off his boots – and his jeans slithered off the end of the lounge.

He didn't wear underwear and his cock pointed skyward. He watched her lean low, felt her hair brush against him in the most tortuous of light touches, and sucked in an anticipatory breath, wanting her to take him in her hand. Instead, she began stroking his balls lightly with her fingernails.

Koz leaned back, eyes shutting, but not before he saw her satisfied grin. Twenty percent angel, eighty percent devil: that was his Cassie. He growled when she finally took him in her mouth.

Her tongue moved up his shaft, swirling, circling, exploring all the veins and textures of his hard cock. He was thick, long, hard and she was enjoying him like an ice cream cone. Her tongue traveled around the rim and over his smooth head. His hips bucked when she finally took him deep down in her throat. His hands tangled up in her hair, ready to guide, but she didn't need any coaching. Like he did hers, she knew his body, and exactly what to do to get him off. But he kept his fingers latched tight in her hair as she picked up the rhythm he needed.

His head began to swim and the tightness in his belly was verging on debilitating. His breathing was ragged. When she started massaging his balls again, he moved one hand from her hair to her cheek, caressing the side of her face. It was his personal signal to her that go-time was approaching. With club chicks, he didn't give a flying fuck if they were caught off guard and choked and sputtered. But he warned Cass.

She kept at it though, even as he bucked into her mouth deeper and his hands held her head in place. He came hard, pulsing, pushing deeper, filling her mouth. She licked and swallowed all she could, using both hands to stroke him to his end. He watched her tongue slurp up the remaining juices she'd missed on her first swallow.

Spent, he leaned back and was content to let her kiss her way back up his body. When she hovered over his chest, her nails biting through his shirt, he wrapped her up tight in a silent thank you.

Before long, though, they became aware of their state of undress. They both donned their clothes, consumed the water she'd brought along and reclined the lounge chair to a flat position. Stretched out on their sides, Cassie in front of him, his arm around her, they fell asleep using one blanket as a pillow and the other as a cover.

Cassie was so worn out that she remained asleep when Koz became aware of the approaching footsteps of others. Slowly, their hiding spot filled brothers looking for somewhere better than the parking lot to bed down. He drifted off again, but kept his ears pricked to all that went on around them.

**TBC**


	3. Black Hills Salutations

**3. Black Hills Salutation**

The mattress was like concrete under her. Damn, she knew she was due a new bed, but was it this bad? Jesus, every bone in her body hurt and…yep…_ow_. Her neck was stiff and twisted at an odd angle. What the hell was going on?

Ava rolled over and put her hand on the mattress, the felt soft against her hand.

The _felt_?

Her eyes finally cooperated and flipped open. And that was when she remembered. She and Juice had hammered it out in the laundry room. At least, she assumed it was the laundry room because it had been a cramped space and there had been a washing machine involved. And then they'd rejoined the party. At some point, they'd ended up here, on the pool table.

Oh, God, she'd fucked on a dryer and slept on top of a pool table. A quick check proved that she was dressed, but the move strained her neck and she flopped back down on the green felt. There was something crunchy under her elbow and she prayed it was a peanut shell.

A sound roughly the volume of a lawnmower engine told her that Juice was still sleeping soundly, and snoring. She rolled over toward him, wincing, and his chest was a welcome pillow compared to the flat of the table. The move startled him, and he snorted.

"Ah…shit."

"Sorry, baby," she yawned against the leather of his cut.

"What time is it?"

"Dunno."

But the clubhouse was fairly quiet around them – just some snoring and the occasional groan. It had to be early.

"Go back to sleep," he urged and settled beneath her.

She wasn't going to be able to, but slung an arm across his chest and sighed, willing to try. "You know, I just realized nothing makes you feel like a whore quite like waking up on a pool table."

**-O-**

Sometime in the hours preceding the dawn, the cloud ceiling dissipated and took with it the humid mugginess of the evening before, giving way to a normal nightly temp somewhere in the low 60s. The atmospheric change would have had Cassie shivering had she not been plastered up against Kozik. The man was not unlike a human furnace. She pressed a bit closer and prayed he wasn't teetering on the edge of the lounge chair.

Around them, deep, sleep-labored breathing rose and fell like a tide. When she cracked her eyes, she wasn't in the least surprised to see all the brothers who'd found their way to the pool. Some had been accompanied back by chicks from whichever bar they'd found to drop money in, but most were sleeping solo. They were hunkered down on bedrolls along the grassy area beside the fence, and a few lucky souls had commandeered the remaining lounge chairs. Cassie couldn't begin to wonder how she'd slept through all that rowdiness. This crew navigating the pitch darkness, around a pool and through sporadically placed sleeping bodies – more than likely after knocking back a few – would have been anything but quiet.

But she'd begun to notice that she slept more soundly when wrapped up in Koz's arms. She let her guard down, completely surrendering to sleep. And here, without the added worry of listening for Lucas if he should need her, she'd zonked out. Dead to the world. She sighed, because the flip side to this was that she'd become increasingly unable to sleep when Koz wasn't around. Alone, she tossed and turned, was too cold, endured odd dreams about being pursued by some mysterious malevolence – not that she was running from anything in real life. Koz had not swooped in like a gallant knight to save her from anything.

But the dreams persisted, the chasing darkness never catching up, Koz keeping worry and loneliness at bay. To say she was attached would have been an understatement. She was way past attached. And if she ever thought too long or hard about the possibility of him leaving and staying gone, she felt only a hint of the devastation she'd suffer if he actually did so.

Knowing the depths of her feelings scared her more than any of the craziness of Sturgis. Except…well…first came the meet and greet that afternoon at the designated rest stop.

Cassie didn't consider herself one of those with either an over- or underinflated sense of self worth. She didn't let others' opinions sway her thoughts or actions. Worth had nothing to do with money and everything to do with knowing your own strengths and weakness, recognizing faults and accepting the simple fact that no one was perfect. But all of her confidence and humility could fall by the wayside if Koz's "family" didn't accept her. Large parts of her brain reasoned that, if the people from Charming started picking her apart, the faults Koz might have found endearing would suddenly become deal breakers.

She was content to lay there, watch the sun warm the sky and contemplate her possible impending doom for a while, but finally had to get up. The limp arm around her waist suddenly tightened, Koz's hand finding her hip as she disentangled their limbs and tried to slip off the chair.

"Where you goin'?" he asked against her neck in that rusty morning voice she loved.

"Nature calls, baby," she explained. "And I want a quick shower – despite the condition of the bathroom." She moved away from him again. "And I need to, um, hurry along."

He released her. "A'ight…watch your six."

She smiled at the idiom that showed he cared. He'd been shocked to learn that she knew the military lingo that meant "look behind you" for dangers approaching out of sight. It warmed her to her core to know that he cared and showed it…even in his own Kozik way. However inappropriate, he reminded her of her dad in that way. "Brig" had been ex-military, and though not obnoxious about it, he'd ingrained certain phrases into her metal rolodex – "watch your six" one of them.

Papa Brig wasn't around anymore. But she'd endured numerous rounds of interrogation by those closest to her – her mother, her friend and coworker Sonia (who, in Cassie's estimation, had no room to talk) and her friend Merrit who was gayer than a Maypole and thought Koz a biker Adonis – about her relationship with a man seventeen years her senior, and all of their insistence that she'd had a choice in the manner was laughable. She'd fallen hard for Koz the first moment she'd met him at the hardware store. Though she'd be hard pressed to admit that.

As it turned out, the bathroom in the honeymoon suite wasn't as deplorable as the room attached to it would have suggested. Given the nature of the Ho Motel – no way was she ever going to refer to it by its proper name – it was probably certain no one used anything in there save the toilet. The fiberglass tub had a thin film of dust in the bottom, but that meant it hadn't been used. Dust beat human bacteria. She didn't trust the towels, though, and went searching for some fresh ones.

She was hovering outside a door up near the office marked PRIVATE when she heard a soft voice issue from the other side.

"_Hush, little baby, don't you cry. Mama's gonna sing you a lullaby…"_

Cass recognized the giggle of a small child that was quickly shushed, and pushed open the door.

She was met by a small room stacked floor-to-ceiling with shelves that held bottled cleaning supplies, linens and towels. An industrial sized washer and dryer occupied one wall, and a woman stood in front of the units, her back to the door. She was slight, her hair pulled pack in a long ponytail, and wore a polyester monstrosity of a maid's uniform circa 1974. One of her feet – clad in a crisp, white dime-store Keds – rested on the rails of a baby carriage and pushed it back and forth across the floor. No longer singing, the woman now hummed and folded fresh sheets she was pulling out of the dryer.

The wake up alarm on her cell phone buzzed, startling Cassie and scaring the crap out of the maid. She whipped around, ponytail flying, and a sharp, ear-piercing cry issued from the carriage. The woman recovered quickly, though, setting down the sheet and scooping up her crying child, bringing it to her shoulder with a soothing ", shhh, little one." Her look screamed resentment, the emotion plain, its meaning any of a dozen possibilities.

Cass quieted her phone with a quick punch of buttons, holding up her hand in a _sorry, please forgive me, I come in peace _gesture. "I'm sorry," she added the verbal equivalent.

When the woman – girl, really, because she couldn't have been older than nineteen – didn't respond, Cassie studied her a moment. The label on her brown plastic name tag read "Grace", and it was cockeyed. She wore no makeup and had deep, dark, tired circles under her eyes. She clung to her baby, but she looked forlorn as an abandoned puppy at a shelter.

"I'm just looking for clean towels," Cassie said. "That your baby?"

"Yes, ma'am," the girl answered, bouncing the child in her arms. "I'm not 'sposed to bring her with me…but I ain't got no one to watch her today. Darrell said there was a full house here last night, didn't believe it til I saw it, but I's told to get my ass…er, um…be sure to get here early. And to 'spect to stay late. I already been told not to bring her with me before…but she don't hurt nothin' and it's rent time and I can't afford a sitter even if I had one to watch her all them hours…"

Cassie nodded. "I'm just looking for fresh towels, darlin'." She watched the girl's eyes narrow as she tucked the baby's head up under her chin. Mother and daughter were both blonde, and the child appeared clean and healthy despite the shabby hand-me-downs. "I noticed some new towels on the shelf that are still packaged up…when was the last time you checked your little girl's diaper?"

A moment of silent communication passed between them, then the girl's eyes flicked toward her daughter and she reached for the bag beneath the carriage, carefully laying out a changing pad. As Grace set down the baby, Cassie snagged a package of new towels off the nearest shelf. She reached inside her shirt, into the emergency cash stowed in her bra, and thumbed off a fifty. She set it down on the table where Grace was changing her little girl.

"Neither of us saw anything," she said, turned and walked away.

**-O-**

"Mornin', sweetheart, you look…"

"Like I slept on a pool table," Ava finished with a grimace, still massaging the stiffness from her neck. "Hi, Dad."

Chibs didn't look so great either. Only unlike her, he wasn't going to try and find a shower. He was tying his too-long hair back with a rubber band and squinting like the six-forty-five a.m. sunshine was too bright filtering through the high windows. "Breakfast?" he asked her.

Ava popped the last bite of her toast in her mouth and brushed the crumbs off her hands. "Kitchen. Anne and Jess said they'd have eggs and home fries out on the bar in ten." The saddle bag that contained her and Juice's toiletries and other knickknacks – his Glock and extra ammo, their iPods, and other essentials – was under her bed/pool table, and she hauled it out. The clubhouse was waking up around them with grumbles about too much to drink and poor blow jobs. Ava grabbed her makeup bag and shampoo and gestured toward the hallway. "Juice is out having a smoke," she told her dad. "I'm gonna see if I can find a shower."

The first two dorms she tried were locked. The third was open, but she hesitated at the door when she saw the three semi-naked couples sleeping on both the floor and the lone double bed. She saw the en suite bathroom door standing open, though, and bolstered her courage. She was not going to wear yesterday's road dirt on top of whatever she picked up today, and she tip-toed silently through the room, locking the door behind her.

It was obvious the Utah Old Ladies had cleaned, and though stained with rust and calcium, the shower wasn't all that dirty. Ava soaped, rinsed, shampooed and shaved her legs; in and out in record time. And then tied her wet hair in a knot, put on yesterday's clothes and a light smidge of makeup. The bikers and their women were still asleep when she tiptoed back out.

Big tin pans of scrambled eggs, home fries and biscuits were laid out on the bar as promised and the brothers who weren't cramming their belongings back into saddle bags were heaping paper plates and eating standing up.

She found Juice standing with her dad, Tig and Bobby and accepted the small forkful of eggs Juice offered her.

"You know it's safe to eat," Tig said with a grin she knew meant he was about to be an asshole. "Cause you didn't make 'em."

"Ha," she said flatly.

"He's just warmin' up for later," Bobby told her with a wink and she grinned.

Chibs laughed. "Aye, that's right. You bring the list, Juicy-boy?"

Juice swallowed the gigantic bite of whatever was in his mouth and then handed Ava his plate, digging into his back pocket. "Yep," he said with a grin. He unfolded a computer printout that looked like a chart of some kind. "Pool closes tonight at midnight, after that, no more bets."

"Pool on what?" Ava asked.

"On how long it takes for him and Kozik to get bloody," Chibs said with a grin.

"And who's the first to draw blood," Bobby explained. "It's a two-part bet."

"I called Wednesday and Tigger," Chibs went on. "He bites."

**-O-**

Clayton's Gas N Go was located two miles outside Manhattan, Montana. As Suzy gassed up the pickup truck, Cassie, who'd invited herself along to conduct a scouting expedition for places big enough to accommodate the crew for breakfast, slid out of the cab. "Hey Rye, I'm gonna run over to The Sandman Travel Lodge and see about booking the place for the trip home. None of us wants another go at The _Ho_."

"Wait few minutes and I'll shadow you."

"It's right over there." She pointed across the two lane highway that intercepted I-90 up the road a ways, toward The Sandman. It was a cluster of long, white, one-story wings with green roofs, set on diagonals behind the office that looked like a charming little farm house. The sign out front advertised free cable, an arcade, pool, vending machines and clean rooms.

The prospect shot her an uneasy glance. "Look, I've probably watched too many movies, but bad shit _always_ happens, _right over there_. And if anything happens to you on my watch, not only would I never earn my top rocker, but I'd have to move to Mexico, shave my legs and change my name to Lupe to avoid the wrath of Koz. So I am respectfully asking you to park your ass back in the truck and we'll go check it out, together, as soon as I finish here, thank you."

"Lupe, hmm?" Cassie said with a smile- climbing back in the truck.

**-O-**

An hour later and a few more miles down the road, an International House of Pancakes and the country-style breakfast buffet across the street from it, were overrun by three charters of outlaw bikers. Giving the southern charters a head start, they had a leisurely meal and twice now, Jinx, Tacoma's English Import from the SOA Manchester charter, had come across the street from the buffet trying to encourage his brothers to join him for the "best fuckin' bangers I ever ate".

"This was a good find, Cass," Janine said as she sipped her coffee and looked pleased as punch at Cassie's initiative.

Cassie was at a large, circular corner booth in the back corner of the IHOP with Glen and Janine and Koz. Unfortunately, Suellen Pearson and her old man were also sitting with them. Suellen, who went by the truncated "Suelle", which came out sounding like "Swell", was anything but. Maybe it was something in the shared red color of their hair, but the spoiled brat beat out even the Drama Queen of Tacoma, Stacy, in Cassie's estimation. Unfortunately, being that she wasn't just any old lady but that of "Boyd", the President of the Rouge River charter, she was a brat who had to be tolerated. She complained every chance she got - voicing her displeasure with this and that in a high-pitched, whiney manner that was very reminiscent of nails down a chalk board. To hear her tell it, the first 1100 miles of the ride had been nothing short of torture. One would have thought she'd walked the entire distance barefoot. Suellen's non-stop bitching, accompanied by chain smoking, was really wearing on Cassie's already frayed nerves. In under four hours they would finally be meeting up with the charters traveling up from the South…and traveling amongst them was _Ava_. Her stomach was doing flip-flops as she sat at the IHOP trying to enjoy her short-stack of strawberry pancakes.

Swell took a deep drag of the cigarette she'd been asked to extinguish twice and exhaled, lips curling into an 'O', making an obnoxious show of the process. Then she used the smoking hand to pick at something between her teeth. Cassie looked away. "These eggs are runny," Swell whined, pushing her plate away. "I'm gonna send 'em back."

"Honey," Janine said the word like a curse ", I don't think we're in a town where sending things back is an option…unless you want spit or shit added for flavor." Her eyes cut over toward Koz and Cassie. "So, how was the honeymoon suite?"

"Um, we opted to sleep out by the pool," Cassie said, already feeling the tingle of a blush rising in her cheeks.

"That bad, huh?" Janine commiserated with a slow shake of her head. "Stacy Bergen has not heard the end of this… noooo, not by a long shot. One look at the sheets and shit and I _opted_ for the bed of the damn pickup truck. What was wrong with your room?

"We broke the bed," Koz said proudly, and Cassie barely managed to swallow her bite of pancake, setting her fork down immediately. She felt Koz's hand pat her thigh in a soothing gesture. A quick glance out of the corner of her eye caught the well-meaning behind the glint. _We _subtracted the shame and lessened the spotlight on _her._ Breaking a bed while fucking wasn't nearly as embarrassing as breaking it solo while sitting.

"You broke the bed?" Suellen coughed on her own cigarette smoke. "How the hell'd you manage that? See, Boyd, I told you that place had termites -,"

"The bed, huh?" Janine interrupted with a grin.

Koz nodded along, grinning, looking very pleased with himself. Cassie, despite realizing the point behind the rouse, couldn't fight the crimson that was no doubt seeping into her cheeks.

"Koz, you stud," Glen drawled, leaning back against the booth with a chuckle.

The table full of Nomads seated directly across from the mouth of their booth was now rippling with laughter, their smiles suggestive. All but one. Cassie stumbled across Mayday's gaze and the big man winked at her, kindly. She managed a smile, but pushed her food away. "He's a man of many talents, my Koz." Then clearing her throat turned and eyed Mr. Talent himself. "I'm gonna go outside and call home real quick, check on Luc and Dinah-Ma before we roll out."

With a nod, Koz slid out of the booth and stood, letting her do the same.

**-O-**

She was standing by Mistress, amid the sea of Harleys in the parking lot, when she heard heavy footfalls behind her. Glancing in the side mirror, she tried to gain a visual as she continued her conversation. "… ok, well just so he's minding you… um, hmm… 'bout halfway… we're getting ready to leave in a little bit… hmm, Sheridan, Wyoming and then on into Sturgis… late probably… distance isn't too bad, but Koz says we'll run into major stop-n-go when we get near the rally. Umm, hmm… ok, love you too, Ma. Tell Luc I'll call tonight… I hope he learns something at Vacation Bible School… religion, maybe. But that boy needs something… ok, yes we will.. bye." Pushing the END CALL button and palming her phone she turned around and smiled, she saw Suzy standing behind her. "Please tell me he at least let you eat your fill before sending you on guard duty."

The prospect stood before her holding up a copy of _The Bozeman Daily Chronicle_, apparently the local daily newspaper, a grim look on his face. On the front page the top story was about a man charged with raping a woman at a gas station in Manhattan the prior week. He shook his head. "I can't speak Spanish fluently. And I doubt I could pull off a very convincing Lupe…" the rest of his words were cut off by Jinx issuing a wolf whistle from across the parking lot.

"It is true, Cass? You and Koz rocked the bed til it up and busted?"

Cassie blinked. _How the fuck did news get from the IHOP to the buffet that fast? _Shaking her head, she sighed ", I dread what this will do to that man's ego."

**-O-**

Riding was fun…to an extent. As the Sheridan, Wyoming sign flashed past, Ava rested her head on Juice's shoulder and closed her eyes behind the heart-shaped lenses of her shades. Her cheeks had been buffeted by the wind, her hair snatched from under her helmet and greased by the air for nearly two days now, and it was getting old. Her back ached and the vibrations of the bike had become so commonplace, that when they'd last stopped for gas, she'd hardly been able to walk, shaking all over. Twice now she'd felt sleep tugging at her and had startled herself, palms clammy at the notion of passing out and falling off the back of the bike, being run over by the ones behind them.

She heard and felt Juice shift gears and the machine slanted right. She followed the movement without thinking – he'd told her before she was the most comfortable passenger he'd had behind him. Her eyes snapped open when she felt his hand on her knee for the briefest of moments. He squeezed once and then grabbed the handlebars again. The stinging wind slackened to a breeze that would have felt nice against her face if it wasn't already raw and irritated. Over Juice's shoulder, the road coiled ahead of them, doubling back on itself and spiraling down toward a large rest stop. It was nothing more than a parking lot, a field dotted with picnic tables, and a low-slung building that no doubt housed male and female restrooms. The sun glittered off the chrome and paint of dozens of bikes. Even from a distance, she could see bikers moving around.

"Is this it?" she pressed her mouth to Juice's ear, asking though she knew the answer.

He tilted his head so their helmets clacked together. _Yes._

Phin and Rio had the crash rig up in front, and when the convoy hit the bottom of the ramp at exit 31 off the I-90, they pulled into the intersection amid blaring horns and screaming drivers, blocking traffic so the bikes could travel as a continuous line into the drive of the rest stop.

It was controlled chaos, the northern charters cheering their arrival. When Juice finally parked his bike and killed the engine, Ava sat still a moment, taking it all in. She'd attended some large parties at the clubhouse, but nothing of this scale…and they weren't even at the rally yet. She was starting to get a feel for how monstrous this event really was.

"Oh, man," Juice groaned as he swung off the bike and set his helmet on the handlebars. He executed an amusing series of stretches that ended in him scrubbing the shaved majority of his head. "Goddamn! That was a long fuckin' haul."

Brothers descended on them and Ava smiled, shook hands and put on a show of graciously accepting compliments from men she'd never met before. Juice knew most of them, though, and slung an arm across her shoulders, introduced her as "the wife" and beamed like the eight-year-old he was on the inside.

When the crowd around them had thinned, he palmed her ass in a gesture that was oddly sweet even though it was designed to lay claim in front of the others. "I gotta piss, but I'll be back, baby." So eloquent. "Maybe you can hang with your dad or find Koz?"

"Sure," she smiled as he walked off, but her stomach did a little grab at the latent meaning behind his request. Even though she was surrounded by nothing other than Sons and Prospects – his brothers – he didn't trust her loose in the masses. Or rather, didn't trust _the masses_. She was proud that he was thinking so responsibly, but was now a little nervous too. She knew Roman was out here somewhere milling around…

Her worry dissipated, however, when she spotted a familiar face in the crowd.

Janine had been a redhead the last time Ava had seen her. Now she was back to her natural, dirty-blonde waves, but she'd been instantly recognizable thanks to her loud voice. Ava followed the sound, and then spotted the Tacoma Queen Bee. A quick glanced proved that Juice was in line at the restrooms over in front of the vending machines, so she headed for Janine.

She didn't make it far in that direction, though, because she ran into a wall of blonde biker. "Koz!"

"Hey, Little Bit," he grinned and accepted her hug, squeezing her tight enough to lift her up off the ground. When he set her back down, he ruffled her hair like he'd done when she was a little kid. She made a face. "You look good, kid." And his smile twisted just a little that, without saying, she knew he wasn't talking about her looks in general. But the fact that she was tan and healthy and very not depressed at the moment. "How's Littler Bit?"

"Not missing me as much as I miss him, I'm sure. Mom said he went right to sleep last night," she shook her head. "He doesn't even need me."

Koz rolled his eyes. "Obviously you're still crazy."

"It's genetic."

"That I believe." He gave her a look that was full of so much paternal what-are-we-gonna-do-with-you, she couldn't help but chuckle. "A'ight, I gotta take a leak. Catch up with you later?"

"Yep," she accepted his peck on the cheek and then searched for Janine again as he walked off. The Tacoma Queen was still rooted in place, chatting with the brunette, and as she waded through the shifting crowd of people, it was only a moment before Janine spotted her. Her eyes flipped wide. "Well!" she nearly shouted, even though they were now mere feet away. "There's the ungrateful little brat!"

Ava grinned sheepishly.

"You know wild horses and death threats wouldn'ta kept be from your wedding, but a lack of invite certainly did the trick."

"She makes it sound like we partied for three days at the Ritz and didn't want to invite the riff-raff," she said to Janine and the woman standing beside her, who – tall, brunette, and totally unfamiliar – had to be Koz's girl. "It was Sam, Juice, my parents and me, a judge and his clerk. That's it. At the friggin' court house."

Janine made a _tsk_-ing sound inside her cheek, but the stern act quickly faded. "Oh, come here." She snatched Ava into a tight hug, giving her an approving up-and-down visual sweep when she pushed her away at arm's length. "Tell me the techno-geek videoed it."

Ava shook her head 'no'.

"You're killing me here! Mags at least snapped a few pics for posterity's sake, right?"

"Tons."

"She better have," Janine shook her head. And then her eyes went wide again. "Oh, crap, look, you've got me losin' my manners. Ava Telfor…um, well, I guess it's Ortiz now, ain't it? Ava Ortiz, meet Cassie Purcell. She's ridin' with Koz these days. Cass…this is Ava."

The brunette took a half a step forward and smiled. "The niece."

She was tall; the five-eight description had been accurate. Leggy, but shapely. Wide, bright smile. Her eyes were big green almonds. Ava glanced at her outfit – jeans, a coral tank top with a black one layered over it, a coral and black silky scarf in her hair. Her boots looked like old Fryes, like she'd either found them at a garage sale or this wasn't her first time around this kind of crowd. Overall, she was definitely hot enough for her surrogate uncle, but not the club trash that usually flocked him. Beyond that, Ava had no opinion as of yet. Koz being happy was her priority, and she was slowly learning not to jump on any impulsive opinions.

"Ms. Holy Shit," she returned, smiling, but not overly much.

Cassie laughed. "Jesus, he actually uttered those words, didn't he?"

"Yep. And they will be long remembered, trust me." She glanced back to Janine. "I hear congrats are in order."

**-O-**

The long-awaited meeting with The Niece had come and gone like a little speed bump. And completely devoid of bullshit. Ava was pretty, a bit exotic looking. Slim. Beautiful eyes. Cassie had seen the photo of the girl and her son, Sam, in Koz's wallet, and she thought she looked a little more vibrant than she had in the picture. Cass didn't judge books by their covers, but she was learning that sometimes the cover art was dead-on balls accurate. She was dressed simply, her jacket well-worn, and her tone had been carefully casual, but not rude. She'd half expected an exuberant teenage attitude, but the smooth and cool was appreciated.

Cassie had seen Koz intercept the girl and it had been, while not unexpected, a little odd to watch him greet Ava so warmly and with so much familiarity. He'd called her "Little Bit" and picked her up in a bone-crushing hug that seemed almost out of character. His face had been full of affection and familial love for the girl – their connection was long-standing and well-founded. Cassie was still stunned, in a good way of course.

Ava and Janine had started discussing the Tacoma Queen's recent ascension to the throne. Which was okay because there were way too many people around for her to be forced to pay attention to anyone for too long. Koz was back at her side and he was trading a man-hug and a backslap with a non-Tacoma Son.

"Ah, man," Koz gave him a play shove. "She's makin' you fat. Who knew Little Bit could cook?"

Whatever the guy's response was, Cassie didn't hear it. She was too busy staring with a mixture of curiosity and shock. He was shorter than Koz, darkly tan, not too bad in the muscle department…but his _head_. He had a close-cropped mohawk that was framed on either side by some sort of tribal looking tattoos. Possibly lightning bolts, but she couldn't be sure. _That was either really brave, or really stupid_ she thought, eyeing the head tats.

Suddenly, she realized he was looking at her.

"Cass," Koz put an arm around her shoulders and gestured to Head Tats ", this is Ava's Old Man Juice. Juice…Cassie Purcell."

So this was The Idiot who'd married The Niece. From head-on, he had big, brown, kind eyes. And his smile was fantastic – white and huge. "Hey," he greeted with an up-nod. Okay, scratch brave or stupid and go with _interesting_.

"I've been giving your little missus hell about not being invited to the wedding," Janine said, catching his attention.

Juice ducked his head and his smile was almost childish. "Yeah, when we realized it came down to having a wedding or having a honeymoon…honeymoon won out."

"Hmm," she folded her arms. And then her eyes cut over toward Cassie and the corner of her mouth lifted in the tiniest of smirks. "Y'all didn't break the bed, did ya?"

Ava and Juice traded a look. Cassie felt a blush flare in her cheeks. Ava opened her mouth to say something, and nothing progressed past that point because Koz snorted and Cass realized that yet another stranger had joined them. Her quick impression was of dark curly hair, a large nose, and an unfriendly expression that didn't do anything for the guy's looks. A little light bulb blinked to life inside her head, and by the time he greeted Koz, she realized who this must be.

"Zeke Kozik," he said her man's name like it was a challenge, or maybe something he'd accidently stepped in.

Koz smirked. "Tiggy."

And her suspicions were confirmed: this was Tig. Mayor's pal from Charming and someone Koz didn't want to spend much time around. She cast a quick glance Ava's way to check her reaction, and was a little surprised to see her sigh and mutter something under her breath to Juice. Note to self: Ava not a Tig fan either.

"So," Tig sneered ", guess the rumor's true. You're takin' a pass on a ten-day pussy parade." Then, to her slight surprise, he turned his lecherous smile on her. "Aren't you a classy little chassis?"

If that wasn't bad enough, Mayor was in earshot and chuckled. "Conveniently named Cassie," he chimed in.

"Ignore, ignore," Janine whispered to her. "Just bullshit between those two, it's got nothin' to do with you." She hooked a hand through Cassie's elbow. "C'mon, let's go see if the guys are about ready to pull out."

**-O-**

Traffic crawled between the meet up and the entrance to town. The trip from the big banner stretched across the main thoroughfare that welcomed all bikers to Sturgis to the saloon grounds where their cabins were located should have taken about five minutes, but instead took almost an hour. Though Ava was anxious to get off the bike and find something to eat, she enjoyed the sight-seeing.

Bikes of every conceivable color and design lined the streets and cluttered the medians. Though they differed some in model, the Sons' bikes were largely black or silver, with custom airbrush work and stood out as sleek and mean among some of the more flamboyant custom rides around them. Pedestrians on the sidewalk paused, shading their eyes against the late afternoon sun to watch the monochromatic, disciplined parade of outlaws come through. The cops that had been leaning back against the brick wall of a pub straightened, moving up to the edge of the sidewalk. Women in all stages of undress hung off the arms of bikers – all at least seemed to have bikini bottoms or shorts on, but for some, that was all they wore.

The convoy continued slowly through town, earning waves, shouts, whistles and gawking stares. Juice rode at the rear of the Redwood charter, and Tacoma was behind them. Several times, Ava twisted around, a hand on her man's shoulder, and took notice of Glen directly behind them, flanked by his SAA and VP respectively. Cassie, she realized, had her arms looped casually around Koz's waist. She looked comfortable, didn't cling. _She's spent a lot of time on a bike, _Ava thought. And she wondered if she'd become that comfortable in ten months…or, like the old Frye boots suggested, this wasn't her first biker.

One of the bars along the strip had its doors flung wide, patrons and rock music cranked to an insane decibel spilling out on the sidewalk. As the line of bikes came to halt yet again, Ava noticed a group of five brave women step into the street and approach the outlaws. Other gawkers, emboldened by the first five, decided to venture toward the group of _real _bikers that had been served up to them by the poorly timed red lights and Ava felt a spark of hostility come to life inside her. At home, the crow eaters knew how the pecking order worked and how to keep their traps shut in front of Old Ladies. But these were just girls looking for a good time; they knew nothing of MC politics and wouldn't fight fair – if it came to that.

A tall, tan, raven-haired woman in a gold bikini top and lime green shorts now stood next to Tig and was running long-nailed fingers down his arm. Ava wasn't surprised when, after just a few moments of batted lashes, he grabbed her wrist and urged her around to the bitch seat on his bike.

Tara was gesticulating angrily from the back of Jax's bike and two blondes that might have been twins were backing away, flipping their hair and shooting nasty looks at the President's disgruntled Old Lady.

"Hey," Ava heard a female voice off to their right and jerked her head in that direction. A thirty-something chick with bold streaks of blue in her dark hair had her hands on her cocked hips, smiling invitingly.

Ava did a quick visual sweep from her platform wedge sandals, all the way up to her white and blue floral print halter top. "He's married, sweetheart," she nearly had to shout above the thunderous growl of idling engines around them. "So twitch your flat ass somewhere else down the line."

The woman flipped her the bird, but stalked off. Ava followed her departure with her eyes, making sure she stayed gone. Behind her, the whole brigade was beleaguered by potential groupies – some of which were sliding onto the backs of bikes. Though her eyes remained hidden behind her shades, Cassie's face looked stony, and with good reason. Koz was getting a lot of attention.

"Jesus," Ava grumbled, facing forward again. "Won't this goddamn light change? It's the _Night of the Living Trollops _out here."

Juice chuckled. "You knew it would be like this."

"Yeah," she sighed. She felt her frown tighten as she watched her dad chatting up a curvy redhead. "Let the pussy parade begin, huh?"

The crush of vehicles slackened some as they moved beyond town proper and headed out toward the Black Hills and various concert venues. Just a few more miles and they had reached the saloon.

The Black Hills Saloon was a veritable amusement park of bars, show stages, attractions and shops. Ava had scoured the brochures Juice had printed out and knew that they had everything from bikini contests to midget wrestling during the days. Stunt cyclists, local bands, and go-go dancers entertained the impressive population of drinkers and partiers that wandered the thirty some odd acres. There was a large double row of cabins for overnight guests right up behind the main bar, but the Sons' had booked a cluster of twelve, private cabins away from the general population. Ava had read that outlaws flying colors were frowned upon in the bar itself, but they would have a private entrance at their cabins and wouldn't attract any attention – or stir up trouble – so far removed from the crowds. There weren't enough bunks for everyone, so doubtless some of the guys would be camped out in the field with tents.

As the bikes rumbled up the gravel drive to their quarters, they kicked up so much dust Ava couldn't see a thing. But once they'd parked and were dismounting, she realized their cabins sat in a semi-circle around a covered pavilion, under which several picnic tables and a brick barbecue pit sat. Juice had pulled the bike right up to the hitching post – she grinned at the old fashioned wood railing – in front of the cabin with a black number six painted on the side.

Small and weathered, having endured many a fierce summer storm and long, snowy winter, there was a generous dusting of pine needles on the roof and the brown spines poked out of the overflowing gutters too. Four spindly, candlestick posts held up the porch that looked rickety and warped as a ghost town boardwalk in a historic district. The once-white paint had greyed and the decorative shutters were a dull green.

Home sweet home for the next week.

The first order of business was hitting the restroom – the human bladder was not made to endure trips that long and jarring on a bike – and she was off the bike and up the porch steps before Juice had the saddlebags unstrapped. "Be back!" she promised.

She shed her jacket as she went, sweaty underneath from the long, hot trek through town, and deposited it on the back of a sofa she barely registered once she'd pushed through the unlocked door of the cabin.

The bathroom –the one the eight of them would have to share – was a study in sea-foam green. The pedestal sink, toilet, shower/tub combo, all of it crusted with hard water, rust and soap scum stains were sea-foam. As was the tile that ran halfway up the walls, where a sea-foam wallpaper with a tiny floral print took over.

But there was soap in the dispenser and clean towels rolled up in the basket hanging on the wall. Ava dried her hands and opened the door with much less urgency than she had a moment ago, and wasn't surprised to find Cassie waiting on the other side.

"I'm sorry, but -,"

"Go," Ava stepped out and waved toward the sea-foam nightmare with a flourish.

The guys were talking loudly out on the porch, but she decided to make the most of her relative alone time and investigate the rest of the interior. It consisted of a combination general space: the living room marked by the sofa – which conveniently folded out to a double bed – mismatched tables and two chairs upholstered in a green fabric that had been ugly by 70s standards. The flooring was a dull mock-wood laminate. There was an AC unit in one of the windows, both of which were flanked by dark shabby drapes. Stock prints of mountain vistas in plastic frames adorned the wooden walls.

There was a "kitchen": a microwave perched atop a mini fridge, a floating shelf that held ketchup, salt, steak sauce and napkins, and a card table and chairs that could seat a maximum of four people. There were two cabinets badly in need of some screws to keep them from pulling away from the wall, an electric range set into the Formica countertop above them.

There were two bedrooms. The smaller one housed an unvarnished dresser and a double bed with a wrought iron, curlicue headboard. The other was set up with bunk beds for the four bachelors and two nightstands with drawer space.

"Whatcha think, babe?" Juice asked as he came in lugging their saddle bags. He did a fast scan of the common area. "Kinda small."

"Wait until you see the bunks," she said. "I don't think Mayday's gonna fit."

"Bunks?" he came to a halt, eyebrows leaping up his forehead.

"Nah, we got a feather mattress for you, princess," RJ elbowed him in the ribs as he and the rest of the guys filed in. He nodded to Ava. "How're you, darlin'?"

"Good," she offered the Tacoma patcholder a smile. Ronan James Winger, known simply as RJ amongst the Sons' rank and file, had the distinct pleasure of being Kozik's B.F.F. "The couch pulls out," she turned to her still-befuddled husband.

"What about the bedroom?" he glanced in that direction. "I don't exactly wanna be in the living room if we're tryin' to…" he trailed off.

"Tryin' to what?" Koz asked. He was surveying their accommodations with an approving nod. "What do ya think, Cass?"

Ava glanced over her shoulder and saw that Cassie was joining them. "I think it beats the hell outta the place we stayed last night."

"Amen to that."

"Where'd you guys stay?" Ava asked.

"Tryin' to what?" Koz asked Juice again.

"The Ho Motel."

"Have another kid."

The room fell silent a moment. Carter and Tux – who already knew about their plans – were grinning. Koz gave Juice a bland look. "Okay, hold up…have another _kid_?"

Ava felt heat rise in her cheeks. "We want Sam to have a sibling close enough in age that they can be playmates," she explained, but Koz was now looking between them at a pace fast enough to give himself whiplash, confusion or maybe just incredulity etched in his features.

"Who tries to have a kid on purpose?" RJ asked, cigarette bobbing from his lip as he dug for his lighter.

Poor Juice; his face was flushed and he had the wide-eyed look of a teenager being reprimanded for some crazy stunt. "That's what people do!" he defended. "You get married, and…and you have kids. Besides, we already have one, how is this any crazier than _that _was?"

Ava saw Mayday quirk his brows in a slight show of agreement as he clomped through the main room and toward the bunk room, depositing a saddle bag full of non-perishable food on the table along the way.

Koz glanced at Ava and she saw the tiniest hint of an evil grin before he spoke. "I dunno. _Can _it?"

"No," she said firmly, then sighed and shook her head. "Anyway, you can have the bed in there and we'll take the couch."

"Nah. Who am I to stand in the way of baby-making?"

"Um," Ava raised her hand and felt like a kid in school ", can we revert back to something she said," she pointed at Cassie ", what's the Ho Motel?"

Cassie shook her head and widened her eyes. "Somewhere you don't want to be caught dead…literally. And considering the fact that we've since learned that the town's most famous resident was a serial killer, well, chances are…"

"Sounds lovely."

**-O-**

"You should see the pictures," Koz smirked.

"I want a copy of that one you shot of Suzy, blown up and hung in the club house." RJ said with a chuckle.

Koz grinned at the memory. "Yeah, that one is once in a lifetime shit for sure." He glanced up and saw Cassie shake her head but fight back a smile. "What? Don't think the one of you and Janine ain't finding its way into a frame."

"Okay, now I'm fully baited, let's see 'em." Ava interjected, before glancing oddly at Juice's stomach, which had issued a hungry growl not unlike the sound of a locomotive. "Damn, baby."

Koz rolled his eyes. "Find your man somethin' to tide him over, Lil' Bit. Janine said it would take about an hour to get food set up under the pavilion."

Ava and Juice headed the eight steps away into the kitchen, talking quietly to each other. Happy had been right about them being a good match, Koz thought to himself. At thirty-nine and twenty-two, their average mental age was somewhere in the middle. Ava was his dose of common sense and cynicism. And Juice…well, Juice had brought her back from the grave. And idiot or not, he deserved a medal for that.

"Shit!" Cassie muttered, and he glanced in her direction. "I promised I'd help get the cold cuts and stuff ready to feed everyone." She looked angry at herself for the mental lapse. "Which cabin are Glen and Janine in?"

Koz watched RJ stick his head out the door. "Looks like Glen's bike is pulled up next to number eleven."

Cassie nodded and exhaled deeply, obviously stressed.

"Relax! Jesus," Koz mumbled. "Come 'ere." She walked over to him and he gave her a level look. "Bologna and roast beef can wait a few minutes. Not the end of the world."

Tux and Carter came bounding back through the door carrying a huge cooler between them, which they set down in the kitchen. Tux glanced over at Juice. "You're eating already?"

"I have a high metabolism."

"Something about you is certainly high," Tux joked.

Koz walked over to them with his arm looped around Cassie. "Hey, take a break from pickin' on the idiot for a minute, meet my girl, Cassie. Cass, Tux and Carter from SAMCRO."

She looked a little confused. "SAMCRO, mother charter and Redwood Original all mean Charming," He explained. She nodded, now understanding, and smiled brightly at the two men.

"Pleased to meet you."

They both nodded and said hello, cordially.

"So, how long you been puttin' up with Koz's bullshit?" Carter inquired with a laugh and a grin that would have earned him endorsements out the ass, had his football career not derailed.

"Ten months, there about."

"Good for you!" came Carter's semi-startled reply. Then he added cheekily ", ya know you could multiply that by seven cause time spent with Koz is measured in dog years."

"Nice! Very nice!" Juice chuckled from where he stood next to Ava – who was slapping peanut butter on bread she'd liberated from the bag Mayday had set on the table. "So how'd you two meet?"

Koz watched Cassie eye him; she knew he wasn't the type to share personal tidbits on a whim, but this was harmless, and he gave her a barely perceptible nod that she acknowledged with a smile.

"We met at a store," she kept it vague.

Juice's eyes lit up. "Was it a _candy _store?" The dork looked almost eager. Koz half expected him to start crooning about the "Leader of the Pack", and then he'd have to take out his gun and make a point.

"Shut the fuck up."

He was saved further commenting as Ava thrust a sandwich into her husband's hands and his attention was consumed by the food. "Anyway," she said with an eye roll ", we'll be happy to sleep on the sofa."

"No," RJ said ", we _all _want you to have the bedroom." He motioned toward Juice. "I don't wanna risk watching that boy hump anything, so you two can procreate in private."

Koz heard Cassie suppress a chuckle. She was already investigating the pull out sofa – removing the cushions and no doubt hoping for sturdy legs. "Babe," she said over her shoulder. "I think my camera's in the bag if Ava wants to see the pictures."

**-O-**

It was so blessedly nice to sit down on a chair that wasn't a vibrating bike seat, Ava actually groaned as she eased down at the cabin's little card table. "I feel like my dad," she muttered to Juice who was sitting beside her, eating the peanut butter sandwich she'd slapped together for him from the foodstuffs they'd brought along.

"I'll start worrying when you look like him," he returned around a mouthful.

It took her a moment, but she finally figured out how to turn on the camera, and then she tapped the touch screen panel to bring up the picture archives. The first shot was one of the Tacoma guys posing at the rest stop in Sheridan where they'd rendezvoused. The next was of Cassie and Koz standing beside what looked like a slimy in-ground pool. Then a ratty-ass, run-down motel filled the screen and Ava winced. Cassie and Janine stood in front of a neon sign in the grey, early daylight that read _Ho Motel_ – Janine conveniently standing in front of the malfunctioning neon of whatever preceded _Ho_. A young, cute, dark-haired guy was situated in front of the same sign that now read _Ho Mo._

Juice had scooted his chair around and she leaned against his shoulders so he could see the pictures too if he wanted to.

There were shots of the Tacoma clubhouse before the departure, some of the guys together, some candid, lots of Koz and Cassie standing beside one another. They looked genuinely happy and familiar, the way his arm rested around her. Then there were older pictures. Beautiful beds of flowers in a green, green yard. A little boy about five with a cast on one leg. _Cute kid_, Ava thought, figuring this must be Luc. The face behind the crayon placemat drawing Koz kept in his cut pocket.

Ava knew she should stop because each new picture felt more and more like digging through someone's personal life. She came across a picture of Koz and the little boy at a kitchen table loaded with Matchbox cars and an intricate series of ramps and tunnels they'd constructed from paper towel tubes and books. Her mother had an eighteen-year-old picture of a much younger, but just as fun Koz at a kitchen table with _her_, with her hair in pigtails, feet dangling off the chair. Seeing her "uncle" in the same pose with little Luc punched a lot of emotional buttons inside her and she shut the camera off. Juice was looking at her, not saying anything, just giving her that big-eyed, slow-blink stare that meant he was wishing he could see what the inside of her head looked like.

"You better?" she hoped for a distraction by reaching to rub his stomach.

He nodded.

She was saved any explanation. "Knock, knock!" Janine's unmistakable voice issued from the still-open front door of the cabin. "Girls, I need y'all in the kitchen."

**-O-**

The coolers were marked according to the cabins, and once the prospects had delivered them, they'd then unpacked dinner essentials and brought them to the pavilion where Janine and the SAMCRO queen – Tara, Cassie had learned was the brunette's name – were organizing the food distribution.

"Mayo, mustard, spicy and regular," Tara said as she set the bottles beside Cassie and moved on again, shiny hair swirling, face pale and stressed.

"Thanks," Cassie said even though the Charming Old Lady was long gone. It had been a whirlwind of meetings and introductions since she'd arrived, she could barely keep the names straight, her stomach was grumbling and to top it off, she was bone-weary and ready to collapse.

"Crazy, huh?" Ava popped into view across from her at the table. She immediately pulled two slices of rye bread from the bag and started assembling sandwiches. "I put your camera in your bag."

"Thanks." She topped the mountain of ham and cheese with a tomato slice and then another piece of bread, pushing it to the side so she could start another. "And yeah. It's just a lot to take in all at once."

"The gardens in your pictures – are they yours?" Ava kept her head down as she spread mayo on bread, but somehow her eyes managed to locked onto Cassie's in a way that was more practiced and cynical than she would have expected from someone her age.

"They are."

Ava glanced back down at the sandwich she was making. "They're beautiful. I can't keep a cactus alive."

"Too much water."

"Hmm?"

Cassie felt a smile tugging at her lips. She was being poked and prodded in a very roundabout, casual way. Without flattery or mockery. She had to give the girl props on the balls it took to approach this good-enough-for-my-uncle dance with the grace she was exhibiting. "Plants that prefer arid climates can rot from the roots up if they get too much water. Vegetation can be as delicate as children, I swear."

Ava smiled too: just a small twitch, but a smile nonetheless.

"Hey, darlin'," a loud, booming, heavily accented voice startled Cassie and she nearly dropped the lettuce leaf she'd been holding. The man who approached had nearly shoulder length dark hair heavily streaked with grey. He was a little grizzled, his black long-sleeved shirt covered in road dirt, goatee in need of a trim. But what caught Cassie's glance were the deep scars that ran up both cheeks from the corners of his mouth. All the guys had scars – a stray bullet, gouge from a knife, a burn, a bike accident – but something medieval and brutal had been done to this man.

As she tried not to stare at his face, he walked the rest of the way to their table and threw his arm across Ava's shoulders, pulling her into a tight sideways hug while she continued to work. "What're we eatin'?"

"Sandwiches, chips and potato salad," Ava said ", if we don't run out."

"Real potato salad? Or that diet shit your mum's been makin' me eat?"

"Real," she said, shaking her head. "Though you _should _be eating the diet stuff."

"Ahh, don't take her side!"

Cassie was trying not to look too conspicuous while she worked, but Ava glanced up and nodded toward the man who still had his arm around her.

"Cassie, this is my dad. Dad, this is Koz's girl Cassie."

"Koz brought hisself a girl?" he asked with a deep, guttural laugh. "Shit. How are ya, sweetheart?" He extended a hand across the table and said something that started with a C-H…the rest indeterminate.

She was stunned to learn that this was Ava's father, and that he was from somewhere in the British Isles – the accent told her that much – but she recovered quickly. "Good." She accepted his offered handshake. "Chip?" she asked for clarification.

"Chip-zzzzz," he drew out the S at the end and popped his lips around the P. Chips? His accent was barely intelligible and it suddenly made her nervous. Koz hadn't said he had a brother who was impossible to understand! Least of all that he was Little Bit's father.

He and Ava chatted a moment more and then he excused himself with a kiss dropped on top of Ava's head, and walked away.

"Chibs. C-H-I-B-S," Ava spelled when he was gone. "He's Scottish and no, no one understands what he says most of the time. Your ears just get used to it."

**-O-**

Chibs wandered back through the crowds gathering beneath the pavilion in search of Kozik, and instead found Tig and Bobby with a six pack of beer at a table. Beer was always enough reason to abandon a search, so he parked his ass across from them and helped himself to one, shooting a smile toward the black-haired girl who was still following Tig around.

"You boys seen where Kozik got to?"

Bobby huffed a shallow laugh and glanced over at Tig. "Not hangin' at this table…for obvious reasons." He leaned sideways and glanced around Chibs. "Who's the brunette with Ava?"

Chibs shrugged. "Ava introduced her as Kozik's girl. Either of you two know anythin' 'bout that?"

Tig turned to the chick , eyes landing somewhere around her gold bikini top. "Go get us a beer."

She frowned. "But you're drinking a -,"

"Go get some," he said more forcefully, and she hopped up, leaving them alone. When she was gone, he faced the table again. "Nah, Mayor mentioned something when I ran into him at the meetup. Then I may have wandered over to say my hellos."

Bobby put his hands on the table and did a slow turn toward the SAA, mouth hanging slightly open in his disbelieving look that made him look like someone's grandmother. "Really? That soon? Block pool is still open till midnight."

Tig gave a facial shrug. "I'll be a good boy till then. Scout's honor."

"When were you ever a boy scout?"

"Right up until I was banned for life for fuckin' my den mother. Hot piece of ass, man."

Chibs cracked up and Bobby, though grinning, shot him a look that told him not to encourage the asshole.

Juice joined them, seemingly from thin air, and plopped down beside Chibs. "What are we laughing at?"

Tig shook his head and rolled his eyes, the meaning plain. _Idiot._

Chibs pulled his laughter back in and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Ava and what's-her-name seem to be gettin' along okay."

"Cassie?" Juice glanced back to confirm. "Yeah, Cassie. They're probably bonding over Koz and kids and girl shit…at least I hope. I really don't wanna have to apologize to him if Ava gets her claws out."

"She has a kid?" Bobby asked.

"A son. Luc, I think. Lucas, or something. Five or six. I saw the pictures Ava was flippin' through."

Bobby shook his head. "I'm more convinced now than ever that the world is on the brink  
>of implosion. Idiot's married and going for another kid and now Koz is playin' step dad? What the fuck is in the water, man?"<p>

Chibs raised his bottle. "That's why I stick to beer."

**-O-**

Cassie and Ava had amassed a small mountain range of ham sandwiches with all the trimmings at the end of their table and the guys were starting to mill around restlessly. It was dark now, the overhead lights beneath the pavilion attracting armies of mosquitoes, moths and gnats. The other women had dipped up the potato salad and fixed more sandwiches. Cassie was starting to be anxious to eat her own dinner and then fall into bed. She was exhausted.

"What's up, girls?"

Tig had approached their table and snitched a sandwich off the pile. He bit into it and gave them both the most insincere smile she'd ever seen.

"What's it look like?" Ava barely managed to maintain a polite tone around the big sigh she heaved.

Tig ignored her, eyes swinging toward Cassie instead. "This is good," he said as he swallowed. Then he grinned. "You might want to steer clear though. Don't want you chokin' on a ham sandwich, Mama Cass."

**-O-**

Ava watched, appalled, but not surprised, as Tig backed away from them with his free hand around his neck, making fake choking sounds and motions as he continued to nibble on his sandwich. Cassie's eyes were huge, mouth slightly agape.

Koz approached them from the other side of the table, and, having noticed their expressions, frowned. Ava watched his eyes lock onto Tig's retreating form and then his face became downright hostile. "What?" he asked.

Ava recovered. "He's just being a supreme asshole, Cassie. Ignore him."

Koz ground his jaw with an audible click. "What'd he say?"

Cassie made a point of looking away from Tig and waving off Koz's concern. "It's nothing. Did you eat?" she asked him. "You should eat. Here, I'll fix you something fresh, this turkey's been sitting out awhile."

Diffusing the situation, downplaying a very personal insult and making sure her man was taken care of…three little checks off the list in Ava's head. She nodded to herself as she gathered sandwiches for Juice and her dad. She didn't figure there were many women she'd approve of when it came to her surrogate uncle, and while Cassie hadn't proved herself one of the select few…she certainly wasn't hurting her case. Not at all.

**TBC**


	4. Black Hills Dirty

**AN: **The real drama begins next chapter, but clues have been dropped throughout.

**4. Black Hills Dirty**

"Hi, baby," Ava cooed softly into the phone and heard Sam's garbled response. It was just after six, the horizon through the bedroom window a bright streak of orange between the black and gray expanses of heaven and earth. A thick fog clung to the ground, its tendrils reaching up to tickle the glass pane she rested her forehead against. Though still exhausted and sore in a deep, clinging way that made her want to take a Rip Van Winkle nap, her eyes had flipped open at six, her body so accustomed to waking this early with Sam.

"Such a good boy," Maggie said as she came back on the line. "He sleeps all night and he's happy when he wakes up. You know, I won't mind if you two go out of town more often."

"Ha," Ava wasn't laughing. She pulled a foot up under her sore backside, careful not to tip over the dresser she was perched on. As she turned away from the window, she saw that Juice was awake too, white earbuds plugged in, staring at the ceiling. "You're the best grandma, but don't count on me giving up the mama slot anytime soon."

"Hmm." Background noise indicated that it was breakfast time – the fridge opening and closing, the microwave dinging. While the cabin here in Sturgis was silent as a tomb. "So," Maggie's voice took on a conspiratorial edge. "What's the new girl like?"

Ava made a face. "Nice…_too nice_. She let us have the bed, she helps. I dunno."

Maggie was quiet a moment. "How's she with Koz?"

"Made sure he'd eaten before she did."

Another pause stretched between them. "But something's bothering you."

Juice was watching her, an arm propped beneath his head, eyes at half mast because, like her, he hadn't gotten enough sleep. The little things like that – his eyes on her, the warm, calm way it made her feel – reminded her why she tried so hard to be more patient and more friendly these days. "It seems too easy," she admitted to her mother. "He just up and decides he wants to settle down, to be with some civilian woman with a kid. I saw the pictures, Mom – he and the boy looked cozy. I just have this bad feeling that it's too easy. And it bugs me because I really didn't want to like this girl…but I can't _dis_like her. She's too damn nice."

Her mother chuckled. "You know, a couple years ago, _nice _wouldn't have mattered to you at all."

"I know. It's this whole new leaf bullshit I'm working on." Juice cracked a grin and she stuck her tongue out at him. "I just want someone to take good care of him," she admitted in a quiet voice. "He deserves that. To be loved. I don't want him growing old alone."

"I know, baby. I don't want that either."

By the time she hung up, she was thoroughly homesick, and the roiling clouds of fog were beginning to dissipate beyond the window, shredding apart like wet tissue paper and floating upward where the newborn sun would blast them apart in another hour.

The mattress of their narrow double bed sagged a bit in the middle, and the springs groaned when she slipped back beneath the cool, scratchy sheets. But it was still a bed, and it was clean and world's better than a pool table. Ava snuggled up beside Juice because there wasn't enough room to do otherwise; but also because she wanted to. She had planned on spending the majority of her time with him on this trip mainly due to the roving crowds of male civilian bikers, but now she felt very much in need of him. Surely she wasn't becoming co-dependent, was she? She didn't crave his company in any sort of unusual way…right?

"What're you listening to?" she asked, resting her head on his shoulder. She teased his naked chest with her nails.

In answer, he popped out one of his earbuds and carefully inserted it into her ear. She recognized Mastodon. "Hitting the hard stuff early, huh?"

"It's soothing." Which she had learned was true: the more chaotic the rhythms, the easier they seemed able to keep pace with his racing, cluttered thoughts.

After a moment she felt his hand on the top of her knee, the pads of his fingers moving over her bare skin in slow little circles. "Kill the music?" he asked when he rolled over and positioned himself above her.

"No. I like it."

**-O-**

Again, Koz found himself the victim of a killer leg cramp. Always a master of slipping out of bed unnoticed, he'd found that this particular skill set worked on Cassie too, and he'd been up for about forty minutes, pacing silently in front of the pullout sofa bed, chugging water and willing away the seizures in his calf and hamstring.

Save the light scuff of his socks over the floor, the world was silent. It was a little unnerving, really. Back home, whether at Cassie's place or his apartment, there was always traffic, always the whine of air conditioning – as if to prove that it was alive, the mini fridge kicked out a low-pitched hum – voices and chatter and lawnmowers and engines turning over. But in the secluded little cabin area, everything was tranquil.

When his muscles had loosened their death grip on his nerve endings, he eased back into bed, or sofa, whatever. Cassie inhaled sharply and rolled over, but remained asleep.

He recalled the very first morning he'd awakened to find that he was in a far-too-comfortable bed, this woman sleeping beside him. She'd been on her stomach, her cheek pressed deep into the pillow, her hair a dark tangle down her shoulders and over the top of her head, stray ends tickling the end of her nose. With a club girl, a bar conquest, a guilty pleasure, his first priority was evacuating, and that first moment with Cass, the urge to bolt had been strong. But she hadn't looked like all those other women did the next morning. The sultry waitress or the hot coed were always much paler shadows of the sexual creatures they'd been the night before. But Cassie had been…pretty. Which was something that usually didn't do much for him. Ava and Maggie and Janine – they were pretty, and he knew the shapes of their eyes and lines of their jaws, pretty pieces in his life that his eyes knew and appreciated. Hot and pretty didn't always travel in the same circles, but with Cassie they did. Hot, pretty, and a person: a name, a personality, a laugh.

"_You get attached," _Glen had told him once. _"Ain't a damn thing to be done once that happens."_

He hadn't bolted. Instead her eyes had slowly fluttered open and she'd smiled, and then he'd reached for her between the sheets. Such a small thing as slow, lazy morning sex had led to this – ten months later watching her sleep on a fold-out sofa in Sturgis.

He'd laughed at Juice once for taking on a girl who had another man's child, and now here he was…

A muffled _thump _issued from behind the wall the couch was pushed up against. And then another, and another.

Koz grimaced as he pictured the wrought iron curlicue headboard in the bedroom. He really didn't want to think about what he knew was causing said headboard to bang against the wall. But it was hard to pretend it was anything _but _what it was as the _thump _became _thump, thump, thump. _When he realized he could hear the bed springs too, he detected another sound – the framed mountain vista hanging directly above the sofa was rattling against the wood panels of the wall.

_Are you fucking kidding me?_

**-O-**

"Are you sure your head's okay?" Ava asked as she finished stuffing the laundry sack and tied it off. She gave him another worried look.

Koz gave her a thumbs up from his position reclined on the now-made-up sofa. The mountain vista was leaned against the wall, the glass having cracked on impact. Juice had joked that it was his grand finale that had sent the picture tumbling off the wall. Considering Koz had dived across the bed, rolling onto Cassie and taking the edge of the plastic frame against the back of his head, RJ had needed to grab onto his arm before he'd decked the idiot.

"I'm fine," he added at her doubtful look. "Just waiting on the aspirin to kick in."

"You coming?" Juice called from the door.

Ava was the last one lingering in the cabin and she nodded, hiking the canvas laundry bag over her shoulder. "Just say the word and I'll make his life miserable for you," she motioned toward Juice as she walked out.

When she was gone, the cabin was blessedly silent again save for the sound of running water in the bathroom. Cassie was taking a shower – delayed by inspecting his head and finding him some ice in the little freezer compartment inside the mini fridge.

"_One hot mama…" _Cassie's phone came to life with the sound of Trace Adkin's voice over on the kitchen table where she'd left it to charge. Koz grinned at the memory of a day she'd met him for lunch on his job site and the work truck radio had been crackling that song as she'd walked toward him and the crew. The coincidence had been so strong, he'd spent thirty-five frustrating minutes figuring out how to purchase that song on her phone and download it as her ringtone. She'd flushed at first, but had grown to accept it.

He didn't hurry, and by the time he reached the cell, it had stopped ringing. It dinged to alert him of a voicemail. He wasn't in the habit of checking her messages, but when he saw that the missed call was labeled HOME, he figured, if it were an emergency, maybe it would be better for him to hear it first and soften the blow to her.

When he dialed her voicemail inbox and typed in her passcode, Luc's excited voice kicked off the message. _"Hey, Mama. Dinah-Gram let me call before I go to vacation church school with Braxton and his grammy. I bet you can't hear your phone cause of all the motorcycles hmm? Guess that's why you didn't answer. I'm doing good. I even ate broccoli... it tastes like a tree and it looks like a tree too... please tell Dinah-Gram I don't got to try it EVER again. And guess what else: April came over to check on us and said if it's ok with you, I can sleep over at her house on Friday. So you need to call her if it's okay. And guess what else... I discovered comic books. Brax's dad came to visit him, he's all weird, Grammy Ro said something being drunker than a skunk... Brax don't like him but has to visit cause the judge said so ... but he brought this entire HUGE bag of comic books and Brax and me are gonna share 'em... oh, and I learned a joke too... ok, here goes... __why is six afraid of seven?" _There was a lengthy pause in which Koz stood shaking his head at the fact that he was actually waiting for the punch line._ "Cause seven ate nine! __Ha! Get it? Okay, Dinah-Gram says to wrap it up.. love you.. miss you... tell Koz i say 'hey dude'... buy me something... bye... here's Dinah-Gram... bye! "_

Then the message cut to Dinah. _"Hello, Cassie, dear. Everything is just wanted to say hello. April seems very nice, she stopped by and brought peach pie that she said is completely dairy free, I told her I didn't think Lucas spending the night would be a problem but please let me know. I hope you and Koz are having a nice trip. And Tell Janine we are taking good care of Charlie. Lovely little dog. Talk to you soon, love you. Bye."_

It had become obvious within moments that the call wasn't an urgent one, but for reasons he couldn't identify, Koz had listened to it in its entirety. He had never counted on people outside the club including him in their thoughts, actions, well wishes…but here they were. That never ceased to surprise him.

He set the phone back on the table and followed the sounds of water breaking over fiberglass to the bathroom. She'd left the door unlocked and it opened easily. Inside, mist swirled like that in an Amazon jungle, thick and wet and heavy against his skin. The shower curtain was a clear plastic, and through it and the shrouds of steam, he had a ghostly view of Cassie.

She stood with her hands planted on the tile, leaning forward, hot water directed at the top of her head and pouring down her back. Thinking she was alone, she looked exhausted. Koz knew that after two days of hard riding and sleeping on both a lounge chair and a hide-a-bed couch, she had to be sore and achy all over. But in typical Cassie fashion, she hadn't complained about it.

They might not have a bedroom, but they had a moment of peace and a cabin to themselves. He started shucking his clothes and when he bent to peel off his socks, he saw that she was staring at him through the filmy plastic curtain, and smiling.

**-O-**

Ava had washed every conceivable bodily fluid out of an array of fabrics. She hadn't understood her mother's knack for laundry until she'd become an Old Lady. Now she was relieved to have nothing but a little dirt and grease to wash from the previous day's outfits as she heaped clothes into one of the laundromat's upper deck washers and added a generous pour of the Tide they'd bought at the market next door.

"What about all this?" Cassie asked, and she turned around to see the pile of goods they'd amassed from the guys' jeans pockets.

"The Tic-Tacs are Carter's. The Skoal," she made a face ", belongs to Tuxedo's cowboy ass. And this," she flicked the ends of her fingers at the pile of crumpled one and five dollar bills ", is anyone's guess."

"At my house, cash is finders-keepers," Cassie said with a laugh.

"That would work great," Ava shook her head and started counting out the bills ", except all I find are lint-covered cough drops and toothpicks."

Cassie laughed again – she seemed to be quick to smile anyway, but Ava got the distinct impression that under the light sound of her laughter, was a tangled ball of nerves. Part of her found it hilarious that after all this time watching women tip-toe around Gemma and her mother, she was getting similar treatment. But a larger part of her was carefully attuned to every expression and gesture, keeping a mental list of pros and cons, evaluating Koz's girl like a milk cow brought to market. Not because she wanted to make her life miserable; she just couldn't help it.

Ava counted out eleven dollars and forty-seven cents and set it in a now-tidy pile on top of the folding table they'd used to sort the clothes. "This will either buy us a cheap six pack or an ice cream cone a piece."

They shared a look, then glanced out at the hot, sun drenched sidewalk packed with the oddest display of families and wannabe fat hookers they'd ever seen. "Ice cream," they both said in near unison, and Ava bit back her own grin.

Cassie shook her head and propped a hip against the table, folding her arms loosely in a gesture that looked just the tiniest bit uncomfortable. "I swear, I've gotten at least a car payment outta Koz in the past few months. That man is lackadaisical when it comes to emptying his pockets. The last few times, I swear, it's like he's leaving the cash in there on purpose. I mean, who _misplaces _a hundred bucks, right?"

Ava shrugged. Cassie licked her lips and took a deep breath and gave off the distinct impression that she was about to start rambling. Ava had a suspicion that she wasn't a rambler by nature – Koz would never put up with that – but it confirmed the nerves theory.

"When I tried to give it back to him," Cassie went on ", he shrugged it off and tossed my finders-keepers rule back at me. I didn't get into it with him – again – but I'm not about to just start taking his money if that's what he's thinking."

If that was a lie, she was trying to deflect her gold-digger ways. But if it was the truth – likely considering her a single, independent mom beforehand – Ava wondered if turning away money had wounded Koz's ego in any way. Though he had his foot in his mouth the majority of the time, Juice was very outspoken about her, and them, and what they had. Most guys weren't like that; Koz wasn't like that, and Ava knew that fiduciary support was not just a loving gesture coming from one of these guys, but often a point of pride. "You know," she chose her words carefully. "I speak from experience when I say that sometimes providing is the best way these boys know how to show that they care." She had the briefest flash of Happy and shook the mental image away. "Don't get me wrong; I don't want that man with a parasite…"

Cassie twitched a tight non-smile.

"…but sometimes it doesn't kill to take the money." When she didn't get a response, she shrugged. "The man was in the hospital the night I was born. What can I say – the love's deep."

The washing machines in use around them chugged. Two women chatted in a corner and a man coughed loudly into his hand. The silence felt cautious, but not awkward. Cassie tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear before she spoke again.

"Not taking his money…my reasons are twofold. One: it made me feel like a whore. I mean, yeah, he spends increasingly more time at my house, but he doesn't live there. He still has his apartment." She shuddered and Ava could guess what the aforementioned apartment looked like. "Him paying made me feel kept – and kept isn't always good, because two: I let myself become dependent before. Comingling finances and all that jazz got me royally screwed. That _won't _happen again. I've got my little cushion and my kid doesn't want for anything."

Ava understood it. In an abstract sense. She suddenly felt very deeply entrenched behind SAMCRO lines. Being an Old Lady didn't feel like being kept; it was a show of respect and affection that her man wanted to take care of her…which was "kept" by normal standards. Regardless, she stood, impassive, and listened.

"Now he's just becoming 'forgetful' with his pocket change. Brings boxes of steaks when he comes over at night. A month or so ago he up and decided the locks on my windows and doors weren't up-to-par and suddenly he and Suzy were installing new ones, _and _an alarm system."

She glanced over at Ava and her eyebrows did a little jump. "Shit, um…could you please not tell him I just aired our…" she indicated their surroundings with a wave "…dirty laundry like this?" She sighed. "I just…don't have anyone to use as a sounding board. When I mentioned the steaks to Janine she just nodded and recommended seasonings. Luc likes to play with April's sons sometimes…but I don't know her well enough to spill my guts, which…shit, here I am spilling them to _you_. Sorry. I'll figure it out. Forget I said anything."

Ava watched the way she bit down on her lip and shook her head just a fraction, scolding herself it seemed. She reached to rub the back of her neck. Stiff. "What did Janine say about the alarm system?"

"'Good for him'."

Ava nodded. Janine was not Gemma, obviously, and she seemed to take a different tact when schooling potential Old Ladies. Ava wasn't sure it was as helpful, though, if Cassie had this many questions. But then again, maybe Janine had already seen the bones and basis of the relationship and felt only the slightest of nudges were in order to steer the couple in the correct direction.

Ava didn't have the luxury. And she wasn't that trusting. "Can I ask you something?"

Cassie gathered herself visually. "With the condition that I can refuse to answer."

"Fair enough. What attracted you to Koz?"

"Hmm," she tucked her hair back again. "I knew this was coming, and I've honestly been trying to figure out how to answer it. I wasn't looking to say the perfect thing that would make you like me – if there is such a thing – because I'd never cheapen what I feel for that man. When it comes to him, I'm not sure many people see what I see. When I tell you, you're apt to laugh and think I'm retarded."

Ava had to laugh before she was told. "I have an affinity for mental deficits apparently. The smartest person I know has his sanity and mental capacity questioned on a regular basis."

"Koz calls him 'the Idiot'."

"And in a lot of ways he's correct…but like you said, Koz doesn't get to see Juice the way I do. So he can call him what he wants – I know my husband's a genius in his own right."

Cassie nodded. "I think I'll tell you a little something about myself and maybe you'll understand. With me, you can get by on charm and looks for about ten minutes. After that, there'd better be more under the surface. I've been down Wrong Reason road and got burned, figure I came out on the other end smarter for it. Sexy doesn't impress me much anymore. Smart impresses me…strength of character…_kindness _impresses me."

Ava started to speak and was startled to silence when Cassie flung up a hand.

"Please, this is exactly where I knew things would be misunderstood. I sound cliché and corny, and I know it."

She listened silently.

"To me, kindness comes from learning life's hard lessons; from getting knocked down and picking yourself back up off the ground. It comes from surviving loss and failure and it implies an understanding of the human condition. It allows for flaws and quirks. I saw that in him, and I know not everyone sees that…maybe no one…but it's there at least where Luc and I are concerned. I see it in the way he cares about you." Her eyes had softened as she'd spoken, her smile becoming wistful, like she was looking at something beautiful she couldn't touch. But she glanced away and dismissed it with ", it's at least what caught my attention." She looked a touch embarrassed, maybe worried she'd said too much.

Ava picked up her share of the spoils and slipped it into a jacket pocket. "We've still got the spin cycle to go. You wanna head across the street and grab that ice cream?"

"Sure thing."

Suzy and one of the Charming Prospects, Rio, were waiting for them.

"Come, boys," Ava called as they exited the laudromat.

**-O-**

The charters perused the streets at a slow, dawdling pace, popping into sidewalk vendors and trying to be as civil as possible to the curious ninety-nine percenters who asked questions and wanted to have pictures taken. The Prospects watched the bikes and the patch holders kept extremely close tabs on their women.

Cassie slipped her arm through the crook of Koz's elbow and let her shoulder rest against his side as they walked. It was hot and the sidewalks were crowded, and they had nowhere they had to be. With the exception of the Disneyland-feel of the shuffling crowd, it was perfect.

"How are things going?" Koz asked as they paused to browse an open-air tent with knives and jewelry on display.

Cassie shot him a quick glance and saw him tilt his head to indicate Ava and Juice further down the sidewalk.

"She's guarded," she turned to examine a pretty turquoise pendant necklace, fingers quickly moving on to caress a silky blue scarf hanging beside it. "And protective – which she should be. You know I don't play games, Koz. If she doesn't like me, well, then, oh well." Though inwardly, she was praying Ava's favor would fall into the "like" category. For Koz's sake at least. She was feeling more at ease after laundry duty, and then people watching and poking fun of passersby over their chocolate chip waffle cones. A little intense, Ava at least wasn't fake. Fake she couldn't handle…intense she could work with.

Her hand fell away from the trinkets. "I'm not sure Dinah-ma would like any of this. I know Luc wants something 'cool', as I was told."

Koz made a face. "Only you would come to rally and try to buy something for your mother."

Her response died in her throat as a commotion further down the sidewalk captured both their attentions.

**-O-**

"So, how's it going as far as, you know, not starting a girl fight?" Juice stood behind Ava on the sidewalk as she sorted through the piles and piles of t-shirts being sold out of a truck and trailer rig. Every time she leaned forward, that goddamn little mini skirt she was wearing rode up and he'd be damned if every fucker on the street got a look at what was his. It had seemed like such a good idea when he'd seen it on the bed at home waiting to be packed – nothing spelled easy access in a stolen, quick moment like a skirt – but now he was spending his afternoon glaring at guys with much older, dumpier chicks on their arms looking for a flash of something fresh.

Ava sighed and refolded the shirt she'd been looking at. "Am I that shallow? You think I'm just gonna jump this chick?"

"Umm…that would be your style, yes." He grinned and ducked away when she whirled and swatted at his arm. "Hey, I'm just being realistic here."

She narrowed her eyes. "Aren't you the one who wanted me to 'make new girlfriends'?"

"Yeah, but -,"

"And how does it help me to get in bad with Koz's girl?" Ava scowled and turned back around, picking up a blue tank top with _Sturgis 2017 _silk screened over a skull design. "This is about Koz," she said, tone clipped. "He helped me when…when I needed it." He flashed on their three month separation, "Uncle" Koz's visits, Ava getting her job at the diner, his own retarded assumptions about the Tacoma SAA's reasons for coming to Charming. "Running her off would be evil," she said it as if, had circumstances been different, she would have been doing just that.

"Would you run her off if she wasn't with Koz?" he asked knowingly.

"I wouldn't give a shit if she wasn't with Koz."

"You want to hate because of him…and also don't want to. And people say _my _logic is broken."

Ava glared at him.

"Alright," he set a hand on top of her hand, a gesture that had her eyes cutting over toward him in warning. "Let's bring back Sweet Ava."

"Sweet Ava only lives in your imagination," she warned.

"Nah, she's in there…waaay down in there." She snorted. "And," he went on in a sing-song voice he knew was annoying ", I think you'd like her if you tried."

"I've spent more time with her than you have, you don't know that."

"It's my amazing powers of perception."

She fought it for a moment, face overly stern, but then she burst into hard, disbelieving laughter. She reached up and over her shoulder to stroke his cheek in a gesture that was, despite her protests to the contrary, very sweet.

_Score. _It never paid to let her get broody and sulky. That was where Chibs had always fallen short in his parenting. You couldn't let Ava dwell on anything or she'd be miserable all the time. He congratulated himself on having figured that out.

"Hey!" a woman's shout had both their heads turning.

**-O-**

Carter had been walking along with Tig and Bobby, nodding at their comments and offering one of his own when they let him – which was rare. He would rather have been with Juice or Chibs or Jax...and where the hell was Opie?...but he'd gotten stuck with these two instead. He was trying to figure out if what Tig had just suggested be done to a passing "bitch" was even possible, when he spotted _her_.

There was a whole family vending t-shirts out of a trailer and ratty pickup truck with a camper in its bed. Clothes hangers had been wheeled from the trailer and tables were set up along the sidewalk. The old man was haggling over prices with customers – two of which appeared to be Ava and Juice – but it was the girl lugging a huge box from the trailer that caught his eye.

She was tall and had legs that seemed to go on for miles. A long tangle of dark hair clung to her tan, sweat-misted shoulders and neck. She shifted the box to her other hip and he saw that her face was just as stunning as the rest of her. Statuesque, elegant, but down to earth in her tank top and shorts. Probably down_trodden_ with her redneck, traveling caravan family, she may as well have been the only female within a three block radius.

Carter had come to a halt, Bobby was saying something he didn't listen to. For one brief second, the girl glanced up and their eyes met. Hers were huge and chocolate brown. And then she dropped the box and it busted along two edges, t-shirts erupting in bright flashes of every color.

"Shit!" she muttered, and knelt to collect them.

A pedestrian, a regular looking guy in a Harley shirt and ball cap, snatched up an armload of her spilled merchandise and took off down the street.

"Hey!" the girl yelled, but the guy was already gone.

Carter didn't even hesitate. He was off on the chase, threading through the crowds, legs and lungs pumping as his football days came rushing back to him. As a QB, he hadn't ever been in the habit of tackling, but he tackled the guy anyway when he got within range.

The girl's eyes were even prettier up close. "You," she shook her head, marveling as she took back the now-dirty t-shirts he handed to her ", you just ran down that guy for three dollars and seventy-five cents worth of cotton?"

Carter couldn't have wiped the smile from his face if he'd tried. "You sell 'em for twenty-five. That's one hell of a markup."

**-O-**

"So, Cassie, what do you do?" Tara asked before she tipped her beer bottle back and took an unladylike swig she wouldn't have dared an hour before. Greasy basket dinners under one of the many pavilions at the saloon and galvanized tubs of beer were loosening up some of the doctor's stiffness. That, or, a whole day with Suellen Pearson had left her a little nuts, something Cassie couldn't blame her for.

"I mostly do teller -" she started to answer, and was distracted by the loud, cackling laugh of someone walking past. A little chill ran up her spine, ghosts whispered in her ear, but when she found the laughing man in the crowd, she didn't recognize him. She sighed.

Tara, meanwhile, had choked on her beer. "Excuse me?"

Ava and Janine both started laughing. _Everyone _was drinking tonight. And then Cassie blanched when she remembered Tara and Jax's last name: Teller.

"A bank teller," Janine clarified loudly. "She doesn't _do Teller_. Relax, doc."

"I'm an assistant branch manager at Pacific Mutual," Cassie said, blushing at the slip. "But I do a lot of teller work."

Tara still looked a little shocked, or maybe that was just the alcohol talking.

"Oh, get over it honey," Janine waved her hand through the air as if to dispel the little cloud of confusion that had landed on their table. "Cassie ain't no hussy. She don't want your man." Then she glanced around to ensure that the men were engrossed in the dealings of their own conversation at the next table and that the Prospects standing watch weren't listening. "Where's Ope's Old Lady?"

"Porn emergency," Ava answered with a chuckle.

Cassie raised her eyebrows.

"It was," Tara paused for effect, tilting her bottle ", a chlamydia outbreak."

"No shit," Janine said.

"No shit." Ava shook her head. "Filming got backed up so far she couldn't get away – said she'll be stuck at her desk all week reviewing rough cuts."

When Cassie found her voice, she asked ", Opie's Old Lady is in the porn business?" She cast a glance at the neighboring table and had a hard time picturing the bearded, quiet man with the kind of woman she was now picturing. She wasn't stuck up, didn't care what anyone did for a living, but the mental images were incongruous.

Ava nodded. "Former starlet turned producer. The club backs the studio in Charming." She motioned toward Cassie. "And be glad she isn't here; she'd be asking you if you wanted a job in front of the camera."

**-O-**

Ryan Sommers – he was starting to think of himself as Suzy now, even though he hated it – stood with his hands folded behind his back, keeping watch over the crowd and the Old Ladies he and the other Prospects had been charged with guarding. Colored twinkle lights were strung up everywhere and people wandered the saloon grounds in couples and packs – weekend warriors, bike-enthused older couples, creeps, rednecks, toughs and college kids alike. The SOA women were a little tipsy. He heard Janine ask the rest of the girls who wanted in on her bus tour to Rushmore the next day. There was a wooden stage set up where a drunk woman was butchering "Walk This Way", but the emcee egged her on in between announcements that mud wrestling would begin in forty minutes and that any willing female participants should sign up with someone named "Hal" at the registration booth.

Cassie got somewhat clumsily to her feet and grabbed the edge of the picnic table to steady herself. "Whoa," she laughed and the other women did too.

"Where're you off to?" Suzy asked, not unkindly. He had been made well aware that should anything happen to Koz's Old Lady, the sweetbutts would be wearing his balls for earrings.

"Refill," she held up her empty beer ", bathroom and karaoke sign up. Not necessarily in that order."

He tailed her as close as was possible without touching her. Maybe a light two-fingered grip at her elbow as they pushed through other patrons, but nothing inappropriate. He was always very careful about that.

"What're you gonna sing?" he asked as they inched forward in the line to get to Hal and his little karaoke ledger.

"'Hells Bells'," she laughed. "Ava and I are gonna do it as a duet."

Suzy felt his brows scale his forehead. Koz had warned him that any bullshit started between his girl and the Redwood intelligence officer's lady was to be cut off immediately. But so far, after a long day of babysitting, the two seemed extremely friendly. Chatting and laughing, and now getting tipsy and singing together. "So things are okay with you two then?"

She rolled her pretty green eyes dramatically. "Why does everyone think we're gonna go at it like pit bulls left alone for two seconds? We're _fine_, Ryan."

"Okay."

The line moved up another length and then came to yet another halt. Cassie lifted her hair off her neck with one hand and fanned her face with the other. "I'm gonna have to hit the ladies' room," she confessed ", hold my place in line?"

He started to shake his head immediately. "Can't let ya do that. If you go, I go."

"Well you can't come in the restroom with me. And this isn't like the roadside motel potential murder scene. I'll be fine."

"Koz told me -,"

"And I'm asking you to please hold my spot in line," she said with a smile, and then walked away.

He chewed on his bottom lip. True, he could see the building that housed the restrooms – it was only fifty feet away – but the doors were on the far side of the little cinderblock hut. And though he was obliged to do as Old Ladies asked, he had a greater obligation to listen to his brothers. A duty, even. He sighed. Being a Prospect sucked ass.

Mayor and his curly-headed friend from Charming emerged from the shifting crowds, sans cuts but still given a wide berth. Those two just radiated animosity. Mayor's head swiveled around and Suzy knew he was watching Cassie's departure.

"What's wrong with you, numbnuts?" he asked, jerking a thumb in Cassie's direction. "Koz'll turn you into a new pair of boots if anything happens to the princess."

"She wanted me to hold her place in line…" He knew his argument was futile even as he said, especially as Mayor's friend allowed a dark grin to slice across his face.

"What an idiot," he muttered.

"You better get goin'," Mayor said. "And Koz don't have to find out this happened."

Uneasiness swirled in the bottom of Suzy's gut. He wouldn't go so far as to say that he disliked Mayor – he was only a Prospect after all – but he certainly didn't trust him. Neither, he'd been able to tell by the looks that always passed between them, did Koz. And the other guy, with his hawk nose and nasty smile, was even less convincing. As he watched, Mayor and his friend shared a look, faces and eyes giving away nothing, but it was still a look. And when their heads swiveled back toward him, Suzy suddenly wondered if this is what mice felt like when they looked up at smiling cats.

"Tell ya what," Mayor's voice became friendly. _Falsely _friendly. Insincerity oozed from ever word. "We'll sign the girls up, you go play watch dog."

"You will?"

The friend nodded.

"Why would you do that?"

"Cause I like you too much to see Koz light into you," Mayor gave him a shove. "Go on now."

"Well…" Suzy couldn't really afford to argue. "Okay. Cassie and Ava wanna do karaoke. 'Hells Bells'."

The guy from Charming the blue eyes and curly hair yelled ", _go_!" and Suzy went.

**-O-**

"I do mostly freehand stuff, bro," the artist in the saloon's tiny, glass-walled tattoo parlor said. He gestured at the lack of light tables and artwork around him. "But a tree's no big. Where you want it?"

"I want it as a back piece," Juice half turned and gestured toward the area. "I'm a blank canvas back there, so I want it huge. Lots of gnarly roots down at the bottom."

The artist nodded. "I've got a busy week, so I'll have to do it in parts. If you're looking for something more specific, you could go downtown and see Tommy at The Dragon."

"Juicy-boy," Chibs said ", what's this for?"

He made a face and didn't answer. He wasn't going to get all sappy in front of the guys. "Thanks," he shook the artist's hand ", I'll think about it," and he and the guys left the shop. They didn't get far, though, thanks to the ever present crowds, and ended up standing in a loose circle, smoking, outside the parlor.

"What the hell do you want with a tree on your back?" RJ asked. "You gonna be the first Son of Acorn?"

The other guys chuckled and he muttered a ", fuck you guys," shaking his head. In an attempt to distract them – he'd become quite adept at shaking off the unwanted attention his personality always seemed to garner – he turned to Koz. "The girls have been friendly today."

Koz shrugged. "They seem to be doin' okay."

"Ava said Cassie used to ride with her dad."

He quirked his brows. "That friendly, huh? Yeah, her old man had her in the habit early."

Chibs cocked his head. "Yeah? He in a club?"

"Some riding club outta southern Cali. Civilian thing. Disbanded years ago."

"He still ride?" Chibs asked.

Juice recognized the look that rippled across Kozik's face: it was the same one so many of his brothers had twitched when asked about Happy. It was the someone's-dead face. He knew what Koz was about to say before he opened his mouth.

"Nah, he died right after she got outta high school."

Carter nodded sympathetically. "On the bike? She's brave to get back on."

Koz shook his head. "Not the bike. He was killed on the job: explosion at a gas refinery."

There were flat, murmured curses all around. "Christ," Chibs said ", her da exploded then? Like, vaporized?"

Koz gave the Scotsman a flat look. "I didn't ask what body parts were left over for burial."

Morbid though it was, Juice chuckled. It was hard not to find humor in Chibs' world view most of the time. And if you didn't laugh in this life, you might just go insane and eat your own gun. So laughing was good. And the others joined him, even Koz.

"Hey, bro?" he asked Chibs ", how 'bout you don't ask my girl that, a'ight?"

"Guys!" someone shouted. The sound of feet crunching over gravel approached as the shouter yelled ", hey, guys!" again, drawing closer.

Juice glanced in the direction of the noise and saw one of their Prospects, Rio, jogging toward them, shoving and getting shoved by the pedestrians who cursed indignantly at his haste. He drew up to their circle panting and slinging gravel. "Shit," he leaned forward and braced his hands on his knees. "You guys gotta get back over to the stage."

"What the hell for?" RJ demanded.

He gulped in a huge breath. "The girls are mud wrestling."

**-O-**

Juice had watched club girls wrestle in all different kinds of stuff: mud, Jell-o, Cool Whip, even nacho cheese once. A whole helluva lot of nacho cheese. Bikinis were usually involved and there were lots of wardrobe malfunctions. It was dirty, primal and hot. He was always a willing spectator. But now, as he walked up to the cordoned patch of dark brown South Dakota mud, it was dread and not excitement that fisted his stomach.

When Rio had said "girls", he'd meant Ava and Cassie, and now both of them were standing barefoot inside the roped wrestling area. There'd been some sort of mixup in the registration, Rio had explained, that they'd meant to do karaoke, but somehow "Hells Bells" was now the name of their team and both were determined not to puss out and disgrace the club by refusing to compete.

If Juice had been worried about her skirt before – Jesus Christ: she was in a saloon-supplied black string bikini that, while smoking, had her flaunting much too much skin in front of all these clowns. Her tats looked alive around her narrow torso as she stretched and limbered up for the match. Her hair was tied up in a haphazard knot. She looked confident, which was comical considering she was just a thin little girl. It would have been cute, really , if not for the fact that every territorial, testosterone-laced fiber of his being was howling to yank her out of the ring and cover her back up.

Men were crowding around the pit, standing on tables and chairs, talking and shouting and whistling even though the action hadn't started yet. Camera flashes exploded like fireflies. The two other girls, on the other side of the pit, were a mismatched set. One tall and skinny and horse-faced, the other short, dumpy, and flaunting a bad boob job. Most of the cameras were being aimed at Ava and Cassie.

A double row of thin, nylon rope marked the wrestling ring, and Juice grabbed it in his hands, the material slick in his now-clammy palms. "Ava!" Her head snapped around in his direction and she didn't flash him the smile he'd expected. Instead she dropped her right foot – she'd been stretching her quads – and picked her barefoot way through the slimy, coppery-smelling mud. "What the hell?" his tone was more worried than anything.

She did smile then, and it was overly wide. She reached over the ropes and poked the end of his nose. "It'll be fine, baby." She was tipsy…and that was putting it lightly. "And guess what we get if we win?"

He sighed again. "What?"

"Free tattoos!"

"Okay, I'll buy you a tat if it'll get you the _fuck_ out of here."

"Nope." She waggled her finger at him. "SOA girls do not back down. Ha!" she laughed. "That should be our theme song!"

"Hey," a beefy guy in a saloon security shirt pushed through the crowd toward Juice. "Away from the rope!"

"She's my Old Lady," he bit back, now pissed. Who the fuck did this thug think he was? Some goddamned hired muscle wasn't going to push him away from his woman. His _wife_.

"It'll be fine," Ava repeated, lunged forward to smack a kiss against his lips, and then retreated to the center of the pit, mud splashing up on her pretty little ankles.

"I'm going," Juice grumbled to the security guard as he let go of the rope and moved away. He said a silent prayer that Ava's heaping helping of crazy could power her through the matches.

**-O-**

Koz wasn't able to push his way through the crowd before the emcee was blasting an air horn and the two teams of girls were on their knees and grappling with one another. Cassie had her hands on the forearms of a skinny long-faced bitch who was gritting her teeth as she struggled. The taut muscles in Cassie's arms flexed as she surged forward, taking her opponent to the ground, mud splashing. The black string bikini she was wearing didn't look like it could last so much as a round without coming untied or slipping – possessiveness flared hotly inside him as he listened to the whoops and hollers of the men around him.

He turned sideways and slid between two cheering patrons, getting closer to the ring and finding the knot of Sons watching the action. Doc Tara had not one, but three brown beer bottles in her arms, and Jax had a steadying hand on his Old Lady's shoulder.

"How'd this happen?" Koz asked the Redwood Prez, nodding toward the mud pit.

Jax shrugged, genuinely at a loss. "I got no idea, man."

"Oh," Tara glanced up at him and was glassy-eyed. She tilted her head in a cocky gesture. "It waza mis-_take_. They were_ nooooooot_ s'posed to fight."

"Wow," Koz said to Jax ", how many has she had?"

He grinned. "No clue."

The cheers reached a crescendo around them and Koz looked back to the action. The SOA girls were mud-streaked and ferocious, never still a second, twisting and bucking and rolling for all they were worth. If he put everything else out of his mind, all the worries he had, it was easy to get caught up in the beautiful, lithe way they moved, the way the mud clung to curves and plastered the little bikinis to their bodies. Cassie pinned her rival first and a few seconds later, Ava had hers down too. The match ended with a sharp blast of the air horn and the losers slunk away, filthy, scowling and wiping mud from their eyes.

Cassie and Ava slapped palms and their grins were wide, white slashes across mud-browned faces. Koz felt a smile tug at his lips. Later, someone, probably Suzy, was going to have his ass handed to him for this mixup, but in the moment, he could hardly believe his eyes. Both his girls were getting along.

**-O-**

Even though she was now coated with thick, gloppy mud, the tattoos on Ava's back and side were vivid. As she caught her breath a moment, hands resting on her knees, Cassie had an idle wonder if there was any significance to the spray of lilies going up the girl's ribs. And what "Happy" below "Juice" meant. Juice, from what she'd seen, had one of those effervescent personalities. He kept Ava happy…and thus the tattoo made sense.

She'd get to pick out her own ink if they won, which, considering this was the last match of the series – she and Ava facing off against the last standing pair – the outcome looked favorable.

She sank to her knees in the mud that had been churned to a soup, and let her arms float beside her, ready for the horn. Across from her, her opponent wasn't the spindly, drunk kind of chick she and Ava had faced so far. This bitch was thick and wide, with a man's figure and big shoulders. Cassie's own musculature had been sculpted in the gym, and this woman was meaty and solid by contrast, a thick layer of fat padding her midsection. She looked like she'd be most at home in a pair of work boots and a hard hat. As Cassie assessed her, the woman grinned – nastily.

The air horn blasted and the big bitch came at her like a bulldozer, shuffling forward on her knees. She may have been strong, but she wasn't very quick, and Cassie evaded her, ducking around and catching her across her meaty waist. Cass used her own weight to shove the woman down, hooking an arm around one of hers and gaining leverage as she drove her into the mud.

"Bitch!" her opponent spat, floundering in the muck beneath them. She bucked, hard, and sent Cassie sprawling onto her back. She hit the mud with a sticky, wet sound and immediately rolled, getting back onto her knees…only to get slammed back down.

This being the final match, and considering it had to be after eleven p.m., Cassie was getting tired. Bone-tired, fall asleep standing up tired. But she was running off adrenaline and managed to slip away, thanks to the mud.

As they clashed again, Cassie was able to attain the upper hand. At least for a moment. As she took the woman down to the mud, the bitch sent a fast right hook straight at her face. The big, square, mannish fist connected with her left eye.

Cassie saw stars. The pain ignited inside her skull and on her face, scorched across her skin and for a moment, gave her the impression her head was no longer attached to her body. Her vision blurred, white and black spots like TV static consuming the pit around her, and then she was slammed, mercilessly, face-first into the mud. The shrill chirp of a whistle signaled a pin and she knew that she hadn't been the one doing the pinning.

When she could, she dragged herself through the mud, panting, head swimming, stomach churning as it threatened to bring up her dinner. Amid jeers and boos, she slid out from under the ropes, sat down hard on her ass, leaned over and puked.

**-O-**

The Sons in the crowd were screaming ", foul," as were some of the non-Sons around them. The two hot SOA girls had become fan favorites quickly, and nearly everyone seemed to have seen Cassie get punched.

Koz shouldered his way through the crowd and found his beautiful girl in a muddy, sweaty heap on the outside of the pit. She was wiping her face with a dirty towel someone had handed her, the fabric coming away red. Blood poured from a gash along her temple. And she'd obviously been sick. He saw someone kick dirt over the puddle beside her. He reached her in an instant and crouched down in front of her. Cassie blinked hard, eyes seeming out of focus.

"I think I lost it for us," she mumbled through mud-caked lips. She pulled the towel away and glanced at the blood. "Damn!"

"Doesn't matter," Koz soothed. Up on the stage, the emcee was announcing a forfeit by the cold-coking bitch, and Ava was still going at the other one. "Here," he motioned for the towel and then pressed it against her cut to staunch the blood flow. She leaned heavily against his hand, eyes fluttering shut.

"We were doing so good."

"Yeah." He heard a whistle. Ava had pinned the other girl and the crowd roared around them. Feet stamped over the gravel and hard packed dirt, stirring up dust. He recognized Sons' voices and when he glanced up, saw Ava ducking under the ropes, beaming. Juice hugged her, mud and all.

Doc Tara crouched down next to them, almost falling over in the process. Her words smelled like beer and some kind of fruity cocktail he didn't recognize. Jax stepped up behind her and leaned down to steady her with a hand on her shoulder. "How's the…head?" she was weaving, even in a crouch like this.

"Like I ran into a Mack truck," Cassie said, opening her eyes again with obvious force.

Tara nodded and leaned closer, Koz moving out of her way so she could examine his girl. "Don't think it needs stitches…butterfly maybe…your eye maaaaay…or maaaay not…swell. Hard to," she hiccupped. "Say. Hmm…speaking of eyesssss," the doctor slurred. "Ayone have a flashlight or something?"

"Got a lighter," Jax offered, handing his Zippo to his wife.

It took Tara three tries to get the thing lit, then she held the lighter as a crude penlight, thrusting it close to Cassie's face so she could examine her pupils. Koz darted out a hand and brushed Cassie's hair back. Tipsy Tara may have been fun, but she was just as likely to ignite something as pass out.

"Ani…ani…so…" the Doc shook her head, struggling to pronounce whatever it was she was trying to say. "Her pupils are uneven. Common side 'fect of a con'ussion." She hiccupped again.

Juice leaned over at the waist and joined their crowded little pow-wow. "She's got a concussion? Shit, man!"

Behind him, Koz saw Ava glare over her shoulder at the built-like-a-brick-shithouse of a bitch who had illegally socked Cassie. "Bitch," she hissed. Then she was leaning down too – Koz was starting to feel claustrophobic and protective. Tara was still waving the goddamn lighter around and laughing at nothing. "Don't worry, Cass," Ava assured. "We won."

Cassie swiveled her head around, wincing. "We did?" Koz had to smile at the fact that she was still worried about some stupid tattoo prize.

Janine's voice carried over the others' heads. "Oh, hell yes, honey. Ava slammed into that other bitch and she went down like a whore on a payin' preacher."

**-O-**

Cassie screwed the cap back on the bottle of water she'd used to chase her Tylenol and leaned back against the unfolded sofa bed with a grateful sigh. It was so wonderful to be clean again, and to sit somewhere soft, with a pillow beneath her throbbing head that felt too heavy to lift anymore. A fresh wave of nausea washed over her and, for a moment, she thought she might vomit the pills back up. They stayed down though, and when she could, she opened her eyes to see six curious sets staring back at her.

"I'm okay," she said to the room of concerned bikers. She chanced a grin. "After all, I had a drunk pediatric surgeon and a half-drunk Army medic check me out."

"Chibs set my broken finger last year," Carter held up his crooked left pinky and shuddered. "It'll never be the same."

"Way to go, kid," Mayday thumped him on the back. "Scare the shit out of her why dontcha."

"What I wanna know," Juice was propped in the bedroom doorway, hands in his pockets, smeared with mud from his hug with Ava. "Is where you learned how to pin somebody like that." He grinned. "We all know Ava's -,"

"Ava's what?" his wife asked, stepping out of the bathroom. A thin cloud of steam trailed after her and she was scrubbing her wet hair with a towel. She was in her skirt from earlier and what had to be one of Juice's shirts. "What?" she asked again.

"Scrappy," he offered.

Nausea spiked again and Cassie swallowed, her tongue feeling thick and heavy in her mouth. The room seemed unsteady, the edges of her vision blurred just the tiniest amount, almost as if she were drunk. "I dated a wrestler in high school," she explained, feeling a smile on her face she hadn't willed to be there. "He liked to pin me."

The others laughed and it was too loud. Koz shifted beside her on the bed. "Concussions make you say the damndest things," she thought she recognized Carter's voice.

"Good job tonight," Ava called – it had to be Ava seeing as how she was the only other woman in the group. "Don't lose your voucher, cause tomorrow we're getting inked!"

Cassie closed her eyes again and concentrated on breathing steadily. She was so, so sleepy all of a sudden. The hot water from the shower had loosened her up and her body was lead-heavy. Her eyelids wouldn't have opened if she'd wanted them to.

Around her, faces faded, feet thumped past to the door, everyone filed back out into the night that smelled like a campfire, and then the room was quiet. They'd gone to continue the party, find women, drink more, laugh and socialize. There was a soft _click _and then the light that had been trying to seep between her lashes was doused. Koz settled beside her, the bed springs groaning. "A wrestler, huh?" he asked.

"You should go have fun," she encouraged just barely above a whisper.

"Gotta wake you up later, though."

"Shhh."

The covers rustled. Sleep crept closer. "What're the odds we'd both get goddamn head injuries in one day?"

"It's like National Lampoon's Sturgis," Cassie agreed

Koz kissed her forehead and then she heard him leave, boots heavy on the floor. The door shut softly, then she was asleep.

**TBC**


	5. Black Hills Nightmare

**Disclaimer: **The Topanga Canyon Club is completely fictional and in no way based on any actual organization.

…

**5. Black Hills Nightmare**

_Screams. Someone wailing, crying. A child. _Her _child. Every mother knew her own baby's cries; they sounded nothing like those of other children. _

_Lucas was the one screaming._

_Cassie felt the cool metal of keys as they jangled in her hands. Felt nothing but urgent panic, insistent as it thundered inside her louder than the beat of her heart. Luc kept screaming. She saw the sullen, withdrawn expression on the face of someone who should have been just as terror-stricken as she was. He didn't care that Luc kept screaming._

_Terror. Dread. Her baby…_

"_Lucas is your most prized treasure?"_

_His arm…his poor little baby arm…was twisted the wrong way…_

"_More than anything. More than life itself."_

_Luc's mouth was wrenched open, his face red and cheeks slick with tears. His screams were becoming hoarse, but he wouldn't stop. The parallel lines of his forearm that should have run smoothly down from this chubby elbow, had been twisted. His wrist faced the wrong way._

"_How do you plan on protecting him?"_

_His face, red hot from squalling, when she pressed his cheek to hers. His lanky body shaking as she carefully lifted the toddler into her arms._

_Her heart shattered. His pain, anguish, fear and desperation became her own. The sensation of something wet dripping down her chin. She was crying now. Her keys rattled as she clutched them close. _

"_The only way to protect your son, Cassandra, is to keep that man out of your lives."_

_Escape. Her footfalls in the hallway. Escape. The door still standing open. She prayed. Escape. Her heels clipping down the concrete stairs. Escape. Her car slanted at the curb. Another prayer. A sound from above…the apartment door opening again. Please, Christ, let us escape…_

Cassie bolted upright, quivering, drawing in a deep, rattling breath. She was drenched, twisted sheets clinging to her legs, tank top glued to her sweaty chest. Beads of sweat rolled down her back. Her hair was plastered to her face. Her eyes darted wildly, and as her surroundings took shape, she realized the nightmare for what it was: just a nightmare.

She was still in the pull-out sofa bed. Morning sun slanted in from the front windows, pouring over the laminate wood floor, slicing through dust motes. The little cabin smelled faintly of toast. Bagels maybe. And coffee. Jackets and cuts were hung on pegs by the door. Koz was gone. But Ava was sitting at the kitchen card table, cell phone to her ear. She held the trinkets of her necklace in one hand – she wore a long chain around her neck at all times, on it, two hefty men's rings and a silver disc that could have been a dog's license, but had been laser etched with the name SAM and a date. She rubbed one of the rings between her thumb and forefingers, and was frowning at Cassie.

"Yeah, Mom…I'll call you back."

**-O-**

The Nomads, obviously full to the eyeballs with being nomadic, had all managed to locate an available bunk in one of the twelve cabins. Mayday had called from charter to charter until he'd found a cabin: cabin six. Vegas, however, was doing it up Bedouin style – tents pitched across the dew-soaked grass beyond the campground's pavilion. On his way back from checking in with Glen, Koz had stopped and helped himself to one of the egg sandwiches one of their girls – a tiny thing that had the unmistakable stiff feet and tight body of a stripper – had been grilling. He'd had eggs cooked every way, but never grilled, and he prayed it wouldn't result in a day spent like Janine. It was early, and there were still brothers passed out stretched over the picnic tables. Including Chibs, who Koz thought, with a grin, was thankfully out of sight of his kid.

Carter was sitting on the front steps of cabin six, drinking coffee with the girl he'd rescued from the t-shirt thief the day before. Koz thought he'd caught sight of her across the bonfire, and grinned wickedly now as he approached the young couple in yesterday's rumpled clothes. "Mornin', kids," he offered as he stepped between them and through the partially open door.

He could hear RJ and Tux moving around in the bunk room. The sofa-bed had been turned back into just a sofa. Ava was at the kitchen table drinking from a mug with a little tea bag string dangling down over the rim.

"No hair of the dog?" he teased.

There was a tension across her brows that spoke of a headache. Her eyes looked tired. "Nah, I need to curb the drinking," she cracked a thin smile. "Wanna set the kid off on the right foot after all."

"That's assuming you'll get knocked up. We don't know if Ortiz's swimmers are any good."

"Ha." She took another sip of tea.

"Where's Cass?"

Koz read faces well. Really well. And he noticed the tiniest flicker of a shadow that passed over Ava's. "In the shower," her voice changed marginally too.

**-O-**

There was a one-two rap at the bathroom door as Cassie swiped a hand through the steam on the mirror. A hot shower had eased the lingering tension from her muscles and chased away the shivers the nightmare had left her with, even though it did nothing for her headache. "Koz?" she asked as she cinched her towel up tighter under her arms.

"The one and only," he answered, and she unlocked the door.

Steam rolled out the door as it opened and Koz waved an arm through it. "You a'ight?"

She nodded. "Have you seen my aspirin?" She was digging through her toiletry bag.

"How's the head?"

"Fine."

He propped a shoulder against the doorjamb and rolled his eyes. "Liar."

She found the pills she was after and popped two as Koz stepped fully into the bathroom and closed the door, giving them some privacy.

"How'd you sleep?" he asked, and through the mirror, she saw his knowing look. Ava had told him about the nightmare.

"Between your bi-hourly wakeups, I managed to catch some Zs." She smiled at his expression. "I'm fine, though. Honest."

He nodded. "A'ight. There's a buncha competitions goin' on today, so not sure we'll be at the saloon much. But if you start feelin' like shit, make sure Carter gets your ass back here."

Somewhere between the right hook to the face and her nightmare that morning, she'd forgotten that she and Janine were supposed to be going on a guided bus tour of Mt. Rushmore that day. "Carter's going?"

"Yeah, y'all need an escort and he's been there before. Knows his way around. I told him he could take his little t-shirt girl so long as he keeps an eye on you and Lil' Bit."

"I thought you'd send Suzy," she frowned. "And Janine only has four tickets."

Koz winced. "Yeah, I ran into Glen earlier. Janine's got food poisoning or something. She won't be gettin' too far from 'home' today. She says to go and have a good time."

"Oh, I should go make sure she's alright -,"

"Nah, nah, that's Suzy's job today. After that little dumbass's fuckup last night, he's lucky that cleaning up puke's all he has to do today."

"Fuckup?" she questioned, combing out her hair.

Koz snorted. "Mud wrestling?"

She shook her head. "That wasn't Ryan. You'll wanna talk to Mayor and his buddy Tig about that. I had to hit the restroom and left Rye in line. Those two sent him to shadow me and said they'd sign us up for karaoke." She rolled her eyes. "When they called our names, needless to say it wasn't for karaoke."

Koz was grinding his jaw.

"You know Bill Eberts hates me," she reminded. "Between he and Tig, it's not that big of a surprise. Though…in hindsight, what we did was stupid. Not even because I got hurt. Ava could be _pregnant_, Koz."

He wasn't really listening though, staring at the sconce lighting on either side of the mirror, frowning. Cassie sighed. He was already plotting revenge.

"Ava's fine," he said distractedly. "You can't hurt those damn Scottish."

**-O-**

"Ten minutes, people!" their tour guide cupped his hands around his mouth and called throughout the diner. "Just ten minutes."

"God, if I never hear that man's voice again, it'll be too soon," Ava said as she pulled another French fry through ketchup and popped it in her mouth.

"'Can anyone tell me something interesting about Abraham Lincoln?'" Cassie mimicked in the same monotone that had accompanied their less-than-enthralling tour.

The national monument had turned out to be a bust. Five minutes would have been plenty of time in which to ooh and ahh over the giant faces blasted into the sheer cliff wall, but the guided tour had demanded they spend two hours. The bus ride had been fun though.

The world felt different away from the club. Larger and smaller at the same time. Whatever strange nightmare had rattled Cassie that morning seemed to have faded, her smiles growing wider and her laughter more sincere the further away Sturgis had slipped in the rearview. Carter had invited along the t-shirt vendor girl he'd met the day before and had spent the night with. They'd been making out, very obviously, in the seats behind Cassie and Ava, until Ava had started informing other passengers that she, Cass and Mia were all sister wives and their husband, Carter, had brought them all the way from a colony to see Rushmore. They had all laughed. Mia had blushed – the poor girl had no idea what she was getting herself into.

Ava had admitted to herself, feet sore as she crunched through gravel, neck growing stiff as she stared up at the presidential faces above her, that though it had been nothing, Cassie's little freak-out had sent more doubts bubbling to the surface in her mind. Unfounded doubts. Nightmares were nightmares and she'd had plenty of her own. Juice too. They'd taken turns holding one another, passing cool fingers over clammy skin and murmuring quiet, soothing words. Cassie mumbling and twisting in her sleep, bolting awake with a gasp loud enough to wake the dead meant nothing…right? Hell, she'd probably been fretting over some PTA responsibility she'd forgotten about back home.

Which, she had thought with a sigh, hadn't been a fair assessment. Cassie had thrown her all into the mud wrestling, hadn't complained about what must have been a splitting headache. She was cool. She wasn't just another soccer mom – she should have been the first to defend the notion that motherhood didn't automatically make you boring. Yeah, she was fun to hang around. Everything was fine…

But "fine" her itchy. And doubtful. So far, she'd been successful in pushing aside those doubts. And maybe that was all optimism was: maybe it was ignoring the little nagging voices inside your head rather than not having them at all.

Across from her, with her plate pushed to the side, Cassie was doodling on a napkin with a pen from her purse.

Mia had been quiet most of the trip, sweet but shy. She followed each stroke of the pen with her eyes. "What kind of tattoo are you gonna get?" she asked.

"I dunno," Cassie made a face at her napkin. She pushed it across the table. "You've got more ink than any of us, what do you think?"

She'd doodled a variety of flowers and a circle that was half moon and half sun, all the designs heavily sketched, the short lines visible. "I'm kind of partial to flowers," Ava said as she studied the designs. "Did you see my lilies?"

"They're spectacular."

Ava smiled, sadness rippling through her. They were spectacular…and had been a spectacular reminder of her grief every time she saw them in the mirror the past two years. "The artist was gifted as hell," she said, and when she glanced up, saw Carter giving her a sympathetic look. Ava cleared her throat, not about to go down memory lane in front of the other girls like this. "The sun-and-moon is cool too. But the artist won't sketch the tat – they work with straight lines only cause you can't sketch with a needle. Can I see your pen?"

"I dunno if I could get a tattoo," Mia said. "It looks like it would _hurt_."

"Depends on where you get it," Ava said as she attempted the sun-and-moon in slow, steady drags of the pen. She'd been writing more than she'd been drawing, so she was rusty. And she'd always been a canvas artist as opposed to Happy's tattoo genius.

Carter pushed up his sleeve to show off the running wolf he had on his bicep. "Arm doesn't hurt too bad. Or the meaty part of your leg."

"I wouldn't recommend the ribs for your first time out," Ava slid the napkin back across the table. "I think I had a death wish with that one." She ran a finger across the crow on the inside of her right forearm. "This wasn't too bad."

Cassie traced the design Ava had reworked with the tip of a finger, chewing at the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. "I've never thought too long or hard about a tat – I'd have to put it someplace well-covered for work – but I always wanted it to be meaningful."

When she glanced up and met Ava's gaze, Ava smiled. "Amen to that."

**-O-**

Carter had said it would feel like having a cat scratch a sunburn, but since she'd never had that happen, Cassie had no idea if that was a correct description. It had been bearable, but as the artist rubbed ointment over the fresh tattoo at the base of her neck, she was glad it was over. When the needle had passed right over her spine, she'd clenched her teeth and dug her fingers into the chair, determined not to flinch and screw up the outline the artist had been putting into her skin. She'd held a mirror up and put her back to the big wall mirror so that she could see the work, and though small, she loved it. The sphere was a crescent moon on one side, half of a stylized sun on the other. And below, 'Lucas' in delicate script. If she was going to wear a name on her body, it was going to be her son's name.

The tape that held the plastic wrap in place got stuck in the wispy curls of hair just above the tat as the artist applied it. "You're all set," he told her, and the wheels of his stool whirred back across the tile, his black gloves snapping off with loud cracking sounds.

At another chair, a second artist was putting the finishing touches on the black Scottish Terrier Ava had decided to get just below her left elbow. The soft white surface of her inner arm was red and angry, the needle having drawn the skin up into puckered ridges.

"It looks great," Cassie said as she stepped closer to examine the detailed shading that was going into the little Scotty dog.

"And it's almost done," Ava said hopefully.

The artist grinned. "Yeah, just another sec."

Cassie's cell came to life in her pocket and she checked the ID display, smiling to see that it was Luc. "He must be psychic. I'm gonna take this outside."

"I'll be out in a minute," Ava promised.

Carter stood as she headed for the door, but she waved him away. She'd be just outside the wide bank of windows that comprised the front of the shop. And she really did want a touch of privacy. He sat back down without argument and returned to his phone, thumbs flying over the keys. He'd dropped Mia back at her family's t-shirt rig a few hours before, and he'd had the device glued to his hand ever since.

"Hey, babe," she answered as the shop door swung shut behind her.

"Mom! Hey! Hi! Guess what."

Cassie chuckled. "What?"

She'd been staring at her toes, and a shadow fell over her, several shadows, jostling around and blotting out the evening sun. "Me and Brax…" Luc launched into a story, but she didn't get to hear the outcome.

"Cas-_pur_!"

It took only the one word to send the phone from Cassie's hand; it clattered down onto the sidewalk as her fingers went limp. She wasn't the ghost, as the nickname suggested, but when she whirled, she realized that the ghosts had found her. The laugh she'd heard the night before hadn't been her imagination.

There were eight of them, two standing in the street, the rest on the sidewalk, all still and waiting, all of them sneering at her. _Ambush. _They'd been waiting for her. One turned – she thought she remembered his name was Max – and the one-piece back patch on their cheap leather cuts was still as ugly as she'd remembered. The Topanga Canyon Riding Club called themselves the "Top Cays". They wore their RC patches as if they were something to be proud of, as if they were a_ real_ motorcycle club and not just money-hungry dogs who terrorized their little canyon town and played at being outlaws.

"How's the friendly ghost?" the leader spoke again, his smile never touching his eyes. Cassie's blood turned to ice water in her veins.

Deacon Purcell had been handsome once, still was, but the drugs, drinks and sun had put lines in his face, turned his skin to tanned leather, and had sent his hairline retreating back across his scalp. He was still tall and broad-shouldered, though not half as large as his brother had been. But without Mike there for comparison, outfitted in leather and denim and chains, he was plenty intimidating.

Cassie inhaled, and by the time she'd exhaled again, the two guys on the street had moved around to cover her rear on the sidewalk, two more had taken their places on the street, and Deacon had come closer. He smelled musty, a mix of beer, sweat, and sex. The crawling naked woman tattooed on his neck had taken on the leathery appearance of his skin, her outline faded from the sun.

"Aw, what's the matter, Cass?" his voice dropped to a raspy whisper, the sound like snake scales gliding through underbrush. "Shy today?"

She was still standing there as they closed in. Just fucking standing there. _Move! _She screamed at her feet. Even as her mind chanted _nightmare, nightmare, nightmare…_maybe this wasn't happening. Maybe she'd fallen asleep on the bus back from Mt. Rushmore and none of this was happening. She meant to kneel and collect her phone, but her legs refused to bend and her hand wouldn't reach. _Nightmare, nightmare, nightmare…_

But then the door of the tattoo parlor crashed open, Ava and Carter rushing out, and she knew that all of this was very much real.

Deacon glanced over at the newcomers and grinned savagely. "Oh, look here, your little mud wrestling partner."

Carter's million-dollar blue eyes were darting between the Top Cays and her, the poor thing confused as hell. In a not so subtle move, he stepped in front of Ava and moved her behind him. "What's goin' on out here?" his voice was uncertain and not commanding, a show of weaknesses he shouldn't have afforded to the assholes.

_Kids, _Cassie thought. Ava and Carter were just kids, whatever else they were. The five year age difference between her and the two of them suddenly seemed a lifetime. And she wasn't so afraid for herself anymore. She found her voice and it cracked through the air shrill and hard. "What do you want, Deacon?"

"You know them?" Carter asked.

Ava's voice was sharper. "Pussy civilian wannabe club."

Deacon's head snapped in the girl's direction, his guys closing ranks.

"Hey!" Cassie shouted to catch his attention. "Leave them out of this. I said, _what do you want, Deacon_?"

His eyes flashed when he turned them on her. "Sons, huh," he sneered. "Guess somebody finally put you in your fuckin' place."

Carter moved then. Cassie felt a hand come around her forearm and then the young Son was between her and Deacon, towing her and Ava away from the ever-encroaching Top Cays. Everything seemed to happen in a blur: one of Deacon's thugs shoved Carter and he let go of her as he tried to defend himself, and the two of them. Ava screamed _", don't fucking touch me!" _as one of the wannabe bikers made a grab for her.

And then the Reapers were there, nearly a dozen; black cuts and the familiar SOA logo packing in around her. Florida, their bottom rockers declared, and she realized, with a barely contained sigh of relief, that a group of passing east coast Sons had seen Carter's cut and come to their rescue. The Top Cays relented; no match for the reinforcements, but not before Deacon could yell over all the squabbling voices.

"You took something of mine, Cas-pur! You took it when you left and I want it back!"

A chill shuddered up her spine, throat going dry.

"What does he mean?" Ava demanded. She was standing beside her within the safety ring of the Florida Sons and her face had become so carefully blank and cold that it sent Cassie back a step. Her relief bled out of her in an instant as she watched the way Ava's lips pressed into a thin line, her dark eyes narrowing under agitated brows. "What the_ fuck_ was that?"

**-O-**

Another tire blew with a _pop _like gunfire. Smoke was billowing up from the burnout pit, thick, acrid, making all their eyes water. Koz coughed into his hand and stepped away from the action so that he could actually see well enough to check the time on his cell phone. It was well past eight, and the girls should have been back by now.

He found Juice and thumped him on the arm. "You heard from your woman?"

He shook his head and reached up awkwardly over his shoulder to scratch at his back. He'd gotten the first portion of his tree tat started that afternoon. "Nah. They're supposed to be back though."

Koz swatted his hand. "Don't scratch that shit. You know better."

"I know." Juice made a face and rolled his shoulders. "It still burns."

"Idiot," Koz muttered. "Just lemme know if you hear from her…" he was turning away, ready for the next burnout duel to begin, when he heard one of the security guards shout.

"Hey! No colors in here. Off or inside out!"

Koz swung back around and saw Cassie, Ava, and Carter, who was hastily yanking his cut off and reversing it as he walked past the guard without so much as a glance. He and Ava both looked odd – tight-faced, concentrated, hurried. But Cassie was white as chalk, her arms folded over her middle as they approached. Something had happened.

His glance roved elsewhere, and beyond the gate of the saloon, he saw a group of guys in Sons' cuts, bottom rockers hailing them from Florida.

"Christ, what'd you get into now?" Juice asked, only half serious, arms raised in a helpless gesture.

Ava didn't crack a grin, her jaw still rigid. She went right to her husband and then kept walking, leaving him to follow. She finally halted a few feet away, and Koz was quite familiar with the folded arms and death glare of her stance. Little Bit was _pissed._

Juice sighed as he glanced over at his Old Lady. "Would somebody like to tell me what I'm dealing with here? Just a hint?" Juice tossed to Cassie and Carter, hands held up in an almost pleading gesture. "Did the tattoo turn out that badly?" When no one answered, he sighed, shook his head, and turned toward Ava who was now tapping her toe. Waiting.

"She's pissed because of me," Cassie said in a small voice. Juice pivoted back around, brows jumping up in question.

Carter shook his head. "That's bullshit. Buncha assholes – some civilian club – were giving Cassie a hard time outside the tattoo place. Not her fault…not really…"

"Either of 'em get hurt?" Koz asked.

"Nah. Florida crew jumped in. Said they saw my Reaper."

Juice heaved another sigh and went to join his wife.

Koz scrutinized his woman with a critical eye, taking in the slight tremble to her chin, the worried creases between her brows. He hadn't ever seen her like this. "You alright?"

"Sure," she murmured, but didn't make eye contact. And didn't loosen her arms around her middle, giving the impression that if she were to let go, she might fall down. Her head swiveled as she surveyed the crowd. The poor thing was a live wire; Koz could swear he felt the currents of frightened energy coursing through her even from a foot away. When she finally glanced at him, he knew that she wanted to talk. Just the two of them.

He nodded at Carter. "Thanks for keepin' her safe, bro."

"Absolutely," Carter assured, and knew that the gratitude was also a dismissal. He slipped into the crowd.

They weren't alone, though, Sons still teemed around them. Koz took her hand, further troubled by how clammy it felt, and gently towed her toward the gates, shouldering his way through the throngs of burnout spectators. The guards didn't like pedestrians to linger in the gates, so once outside, Koz felt like he could breathe again. He shed his cut and flipped it right side out.

The move caught the attention of the crowd of Florida Sons who had lingered just beyond shouting range of the security team. "Hey, darlin'," one of them called ", made it back to your man alright?"

Cassie jumped and Koz steadied her with a hand at the small of her back, tucking her in close to his side. "Yeah," she managed a smile for the helpful east coast charter, but Koz could see the stiffness in her face.

He hollered a thanks, then headed further into the waning light of evening. "Come on," he tightened his arm around her and pulled her with him down along the chain link fence that served as the eastern barricade of the saloon property. Employee cars shielded them from the road, creating a lane that ended in a rough-hewn wood outbuilding.

When they reached it, Cassie pulled away from him and put her back to the wall, one booted foot propped behind her. The sun was setting and the landscape was awash in oranges and purples. Over the roof of the building, a thick bank of black and blue clouds was rolling in like a blanket being unfurled across the fields. Koz could see lightening dancing on the horizon. It would storm within the hour.

Cass pulled a strand of hair snatched by the breeze away from her face, arms immediately circling her waist again. She sagged a little, letting the wall hold her weight, seeming small and deflated. "This is a complete nightmare," she groaned. "Jesus!"

"What is?" Koz shook out a cigarette and lit it up, wanting something to do with his hands. He gauged her expression through a stream of exhaled smoke. "Come on, Cass. I'll be the first to admit that I appreciate the hell out of the way you don't try to hang your personal shit on me. I love that you've got a good grip on your emotions. But this ain't one of those times."

She nodded and drew in a deep breath, body shuddering on the exhale. "They weren't random civilians," she admitted.

"Kinda figured that. Who?"

"Top Cays."

"Your ex's asshole crew?" He scrubbed his smoking hand back through his hair, suddenly seeing her physiological reaction for what it was: sheer panic. "Christ, baby..."

"I don't know what they're doing here," she said in a rush. "I've never known them to do a Sturgis run. Mike never went when we were together…or after we weren't for that matter. Deacon's got the reins now and he's tryin' to push that line between civilian and legit."

"Well he won't push it far." There was no tolerance for wannabes expanding into outlaw territory. It didn't matter how small the club, or how straight, no group of one-percenters would stand for that. "What'd they want?"

"I dunno. It was like they were waiting for me, though. I wasn't outside two seconds, I'd just said 'hello' to Lucas when…shit!" She frantically started patting down her pockets. Pulled the collar of her shirt and looked inside her bra. Swung the knapsack off her back and dug through it furiously. "Oh _fuck_!"

"What're ya lookin' for?"

"My phone. I…I was on it with Luc…" she checked her pockets again, though they were clearly empty. "When Deacon and his asshole friends accosted me…I - I must have dropped it…goddamn it! I never picked it back up." Search fruitless, she pushed her hair off her face and held it there, panting. "Shit, shit, shit…"

"Hey, relax," Koz laid what he hoped was a soothing hand on her arm. "Take a breath. We'll find the phone, and if not, have it shut off and get you a new one when we get back to Tacoma." She nodded and he took it as encouragement. "What the fuck did they want?"

She licked dry lips. "Um, he didn't get to say a whole lot before Carter came rushing out of the parlor – he and Ava both – and then it turned into a shoving match. Florida intervened, Topanga backed off, but…"

"But?"

Cassie shook her head. "Doesn't matter."

"Bull-fuckin'-shit. I can't protect you if I don't know what's goin' on. You said they were waiting for you. Fine. How'd they know where to look?"

"Deacon called Ava my wrestling partner. He had to have seen us yesterday... probably found out where the prize vouchers were being honored. "

"Say that's true, how'd he know you'd go today? You didn't go first thing. What'd he do, post somebody to watch the parlor? That's dedication right there."

Cassie looked near tears. "Don't underestimate his 'dedication' to being a vindictive asshole."

"Being an asshole doesn't automatically make him willing to wait around an ink shop all day on the off chance you'll stop by. If he did, like you said, waited for you, then there was a motive," Koz reasoned, hoping to pry more of her suspicions and theories out into the open so he could either shoot them down or lend them credence. "If he was after you, he's got a reason, Cass."

She pressed the knuckles of one hand against her lips, withholding still, measuring how much to say.

"Cassie -,"

"He said I took something of his when I left. And he wants it back." She shook her head. "In answer to your next question, I have no idea what he's talking about. I have _nothing_ of _his_."

Thunder rumbled.

"Are we playing a game of semantics now?" Koz asked. His head was starting to hurt. Maybe it was the barometric pressure change thanks to the storm, but he figured the Top Cays were mostly to blame.

"No," she met his gaze, her eyes liquid and clear. She wasn't lying. "The only thing of mine with any ties to Deacon is Lucas. That man didn't want to be his uncle when he had the chance, and no way does he have any claim to Lucas." Her tone became fierce. "_No one_ in that family is coming near my baby. Over my dead body will any of them so much as cast a shadow on my son."

Koz held up a hand. "Luc's safe back home with your mom. Let's not get ahead of ourselves. From what you tell me, Mike's family never wanted anything to do with the kid when you two lived in Topanga. So why come after him now?"

"They didn't want him," she admitted. "Not really. Mike's mom – that selfish_ cunt_ Sissy – or Mike's bitch had to be with him during visitations. Even the _courts _were afraid for the man to have alone time with his kid! Which was rare considering his constant state of drunkenness. Visits got cancelled half the time 'cause Mike was too shitfaced to get out of bed, and when they did visit…Luc would come home dirty and unfed, all bruised up…," she closed her eyes tightly, breathing through her teeth. "Lucas doesn't need this shit Not now. Not after we escaped..." she didn't say anymore, her pained face indicating that she couldn't.

The thunder became more insistent, demanding to be heard. Lightening crackled above them, its flash echoed in Cassie's eyes.

"Baby," Koz pulled her to him and felt her arms go around his waist. He rested his chin on top of her head, her hair silky against his skin. All his hours spent enduring worried conclusions of slightly psychotic mothers had left him with a well of patience that he'd never expected. And Cass wasn't the craziest – by comparison, she may have been the sanest woman he'd ever met. "Don't get all upset about it right now, okay? Deacon and his crew didn't come to Sturgis after you, they had no idea you were even here until they saw you mud wrestling yesterday. And whatever it is he 'wants back', probably isn't Lucas. He's just talking out of his ass, so let it go for now."

She was still a moment, but then he felt her nod, her face pressing against his throat. What he'd said was true, but as the sky growled above them, he had a sick feeling that Cassie probably wasn't overreacting – she was probably right.

**-O-**

_My ex brother-in-law. _That's what Cassie had offered as an explanation. Koz had had an arm around her, comforting her, and then then no one else had breathed a word of the incident on the sidewalk.

But Ava had certainly been thinking about it. Dwelling, really. Rain was beating down on the poncho she held over her head, the local band playing despite the storm, and when she turned around, she saw Koz and Cassie with their jackets on their heads too, looking cozy and intimate. Koz showed no sign that her former relatives had tried to jump them on the street mere hours ago. There was a bruise purpling on her wrist where one of those assholes had grabbed her…and Cassie was blameless. Carter had gotten roughed up pretty good…and Cassie was unmarked. If not for the Florida charter happening by, the three of them might have been injured, killed, drug away for whatever insidious purpose those civilians had been planning…and Cassie was blameless.

It had been unexpected. At home in Charming, when the club had been involved with the Irish, where rival clubs and gangs made so-called normal living impossible, she had her guard up. But Sturgis was supposed to be an escape. She'd been persecuted for her blood, hated for her associations, but her family had been all the stronger for it. And she'd never put an outsider at risk because of her family.

But Cassie…what did you do when the outsider put you at risk? The answer to _that _question usually involved desert graves and kerosene, but that wasn't a possibility as Koz continued to dote on the bitch.

She wiped her dripping forehead on her arm, poncho sagging under the weight of the falling water, and fumed in silence. The concert raged on, heedless of the lightning, guitars screeching. She felt Juice's hand brush hers as he reached to help her hold up the rain-heavy swatch of vinyl. He was so sweet, and so good. She loved him so much; her second chance. He was dedicated to her in a scary way; he wouldn't shy away from a fight with that civilian club if it came to that. SOA would never stand for wannabes to start pushing them around – they'd put them down like dogs…and likely draw the five-oh into the situation.

Ava closed her eyes and told herself it was rainwater that trickled down her face. She couldn't lose another man, even if it was just to iron bars and not a mahogany box. She just _couldn't_. How could this…this…_Cassie_…who everyone had included and welcomed, bring this to them? How could she jeopardize the club with her personal bullshit?

She recalled all of Cassie's Laundromat talk about "kindness" and "honesty" and all her fucking responsible reasons for wanting to be with Koz. How she saw him on a deeper lever. Lies. All of it. She had a thing for bad boys and one of those past bad boys was going to fuck with her, and thus Koz, and thus Koz's club. She'd orchestrated a fucking gang war.

_You're crazy, _Juice always said with a smile. _You have a way of letting your emotions snowball until the situation is much worse in your head than it actually is, _Dr. Fischer had advised. Maybe that was happening now, but it didn't change anything. Ava's frustration and fear were building into a living, fire-breathing dragon coiled up inside her until she was trembling with rage.

A jagged bolt of lightning tore open the night, bathing them all in daylight. Concert-goers screamed. The band stopped playing. And the concert was finally called off.

"What do you wanna do?" Juice had to yell to be heard.

It was after midnight and the bars were probably open. They'd had dinner hours ago and she still wasn't hungry despite the fact that she'd eaten nothing. The next flash of lightning revealed Koz and Cassie huddled together much in the same way she and Juice were. "Don't care," she said through her teeth.

Thunder crackled. "Maybe we should go back to the cabin till this blows over. We're both soaked."

He'd been trying to mollify her sour mood all night, so she knew he didn't mind bar-hopping while wet. But that she might like a shower and a change of clothes. "Sure."

But it appeared that the crew was having similar thoughts. She saw the rest of cabin six fall in behind them. She quickened her pace, and her anger swelled.

**-O-**

Storms were no good for them, Juice thought to himself. As another bolt of lightning fractured the night sky, Ava leapt up the porch stairs and was inside the cabin before he'd dodged the last puddle. He hurried, though, and caught up with her, all too aware of his brothers behind him as he shook fat raindrops off his arms and entered the cabin just a few steps behind her now. Ava was charging for the bedroom, the thick-soled boots Gemma had given her clomping across the floor. Juice could hear that the other occupants of cabin six were on the porch, and prayed they stayed there.

"Ava!" she took another step and gave no indication that she'd heard him. She looked like a petulant, irrational child on the verge of a temper tantrum, clearly intending to lock herself in "her room" and sulk for the rest of the evening. But he was not her mother. And though no stranger to embarrassment, it was bitter when it involved her. A man was supposed to be able to hold _some _sway over his Old Lady. They weren't at home, just the two of them, they had six pairs of eyes watching them from the door, and he'd be damned if he let her make a fool out of him.

"Goddamn it, don't fuckin' ignore me!" He cringed inwardly. Most of the time he thought more of her as his wife than he did as his MC Old Lady. He wasn't _that _guy. He wasn't…Happy. But he'd had to say it. And he wouldn't take it back.

She whirled on him, arm raised, finger already stabbing through the air as she took two challenging steps back toward him. "_You _wanted me to make friends," she seethed. "And I did, damn it, against my better judgment. I _knew _this would happen!"

It was horrific – the train wreck Juice could see coming. Everyone was right there on the porch, in earshot. "Don't -," he started, but she was talking over him.

"You can _never _trust outsiders! All they bring to your door is shit you don't need. _She's going to hurt this club_," he knew exactly which "she" Ava meant. "She" was out on the porch, no doubt hearing ever word. "And I thought Koz knew better."

"That's enough!" she'd been about to say something else, but her jaw snapped shut like a bear trap. He could hear her teeth click together. Juice closed the distance between them, and then he had her wrist in his hand, pulling her to the bedroom she'd been gunning for a moment ago. "Just shut up."

But it was too late. The damage had already been done.

**TBC**


	6. Black Hills Thunder

**6. Black Hills Thunder**

"_She's gonna hurt this club."_ Those words stung.

"_And I thought Koz knew better._" And those bit like the blade of a serrated knife.

Rain ran slowly down the side of her face, from her wet hair along her jaw, dripping off her chin, and she felt as if she were falling along with it. She glanced around her at the faces of the five men standing on the tiny porch of cabin six and was greeted by a mixed bag of sentiments. Irritation seemed a common denominator, though whether the cause was the weather, the fight blooming inside, or simply_ her_, she couldn't be sure. Carter had his head ducked, seeming embarrassed. Tux wore what she'd come to realize was his usual sleepy expression. RJ shot her a "chin up" look of sympathy. Mayday's mug gave away nothing - as was always the case on the few occasions she'd been around him. When her gaze finally landed on Koz, he looked annoyed.

A deafening clap of thunder filled the air above the cabin, lightning lit up the sky. Cassie, startled, emitted a squeal that was thankfully lost on the air amongst the sounds of Mother Nature, and jumped. She would have tumbled ass-first off the steps of the porch had a big, strong arm, not snaked out and steadied her. She glanced up at Mayday, grateful for the save. She didn't need to go adding insult and possible injury to this abysmal night.

In the wake of the explosive thunder, the atmosphere became silent save for the steady drumming of the rain. Inside the cabin, a door slammed, the Ortiz verbal warfare now muffled. The air was thick with waiting and unasked questions. Cassie looked to Koz again and watched him crack his neck in an obvious display of tension. She let her eyes fall to her boots, anxiety welling inside her, her pulse quickening. Each moment became more and more uncomfortable. Ava may have been the only one vocalizing her fears, but the others were no doubt thinking the same thing. Even in the darkness of the porch, she felt exposed. A deep breath turned into another, and another…she needed time to compose herself…time to figure it out…space…a kind face…guidance and comfort that a man couldn't provide. She needed Janine.

"I'm going to go check on Janine," she blurted, and stepped off the porch into the torrential downpour without waiting for a response. She still clenched her wet jacket in her right hand and threw it up over her head as she ran, dashing across the open stretch of mud and gravel to cabin eleven.

On the porch, she was greeted by the Tacoma charter's president and VP, Glen and Snapper. "Here to see Janine," she offered by way of explanation, leaning against the closed door frame to unzip her boots. Snapper, tall and lean with a head-full of gray hair going white, opened the door for her. "How is she?"

"I'm fine, sweetie!" Janine's voice called warmly from the cabin interior. "Get in here out of the rain!"

**-O-**

Usually, he knew just how to handle her when she got agitated like this. He was quite good at it, really. On his birthday, the cake she'd ordered for him had been delivered from the bakery a third of the size that was requested, with "Happy Birthday Julie!" written in pink frosting across the top amongst sugar icing roses. _That _kind of aggravation he'd become a master at diffusing. That tantrum had ended with them eating the mislabeled cake in their pajamas a good hour later, sore and satisfied. But _this _time, he wasn't giving her an out. And he wasn't going to charm her into bed to get her to calm down.

Ava was like a bobcat in a cage, pacing around the tiny cabin bedroom, making random hand gestures and firing out quick curses that he pushed down. At this point, he didn't care how nasty their argument became; he wasn't letting her take that bullshit outside in front of Koz and his brothers.

"You might as well get all this shit out of your system now," Juice could feel the way his tone manifested itself in a tightness across his shoulders. Arguing with her was painful in a lot of ways. "'Cause I don't wanna hear _any_thing out there in front of them."

She threw him a contemptuous look, face raw with anger and hurt. She hadn't expected him to speak to her this way. "Thanks, Dad," her voice was bitter ", put me in time out how about it."

"I will if I have to."

Her hands came up, fingers curling into claws…and then she threw them down at her sides again, growling in frustration. "This is so _stupid_. We are on _vacation_! And how dare she…why would he…_urrrghhh_!"

"Now that was an intelligent argument."

Her eyes flashed when she spun at him again. It was kind of hot. And kind of sad. "This," she gestured wildly between them ", isn't good for conception. So have a think on that, _hubby_."

She'd paced so much it was a miracle the floorboards weren't warped, and when she headed for the door, Juice thought it was just a new path to beat back and forth. When she grabbed the knob, though, he realized she was making a break for it. "Shit." He lunged for her and snagged her wrist, nearly yanked her off her feet as he pulled her away from the door. Ava stumbled backward and crashed into him with a yelp, which sent both of them sprawling across the bed. When he felt her starting to slip away, he rolled, pinning her beneath him.

"Are you kidding me?" she hissed, and he took the opportunity to grab hold of her other wrist.

_You owe me one, Koz _Juice thought with a grimace as he put his Old Lady's arms up over her head, taking away the last of her leverage. Her dark eyes blazed and her cheeks were flushed. He couldn't help it, he got caught up in watching the rise and fall of her chest for a moment. But he knew this was far from one of those Hollywood fights that turned into the best angry-fuck of all time. No, when he met her gaze again, he swore he saw ice crystalizing each time she exhaled.

"You know what's even worse for conception?" she asked flatly. "Abstinence."

"Baby," he said, almost pleading, kicking himself for what this had turned into.

"Let me up."

He did, and when she was back on her feet, he realized she was shaking. "I was going to get some water," she said ", but obviously I have so little self-control that I'll just run go jump the bitch the second I see her."

Juice scrubbed a hand back across his mohawk and down his neck, stopping just shy of the still-prickly skin where his tree began. His tree that was really her tree too. He twisted up his face in an apologetic grimace. "I got carried away," he admitted. "But I'm trying to protect you here."

The look she tossed him over her shoulder was two parts disbelief, one part fury, which usually meant she knew he was right, but would be damned before she'd admit it. She worried her lip with her teeth a moment. "Can I leave?"

This wasn't what he'd wanted: her treating him like he was her father, or boss, or captor. Why was she so goddamn stubborn that she didn't see he was trying to keep the rest of the club from chastising her? Or that it had freaked him the hell out to see the angry, purpling bruise on her wrist and know that some strange guy had grabbed her. Did she think he took that shit _lightly_? That he was ready to accept whatever Koz's girl told them with a smile and a nod like some kind of fucking dumbass who didn't give a shit about his woman? But he sighed. "Of course." And followed her out even though he knew she wished he wouldn't.

Juice lingered in the doorway as Ava went to the little pretend kitchen and ran iron-tasting water into a plastic cup. He watched her as she stood at the sink, the skewed set of her shoulders and the way her fingers clenched tight around the cup. She was terrified, he knew. Of the club getting in trouble, of these civilian thugs, whoever they were, bringing heat on them all. She was still young – he forgot sometimes – but Ava was so young. And there was still a very frightened little girl with daddy and abandonment issues inside the woman who trashed her cup and didn't so much as spare him a look as she headed for the main door of the cabin.

The door was open, he saw, and should have realized sooner because there was a cool, moist breeze rippling in through it, bringing some much needed fresh air into the cabin. It was still raining, the steady pounding on the old shingles now amplified by the echo the falling water made against the porch roof. Forked tongues of lightning lit up the mud-slicked dirt drives that traversed their camp grounds. And a lone figure sat on the top porch step, a shadow until the lightning, and then Juice knew it was Koz.

Maybe the guy was psychic or something, but he twisted around, and in the harsh glare of the overhead lighting, Juice figured he could see both of them. "Come out here, Little Bit," he called in a voice that was less than friendly, though not cruel. Ava hesitated just the briefest of seconds, and that decided it for Juice: he was going with her, invited or not.

The porch was narrow, but plenty big enough for the three of them. Koz stood and moved to one of the two plastic lawn chairs so he could properly face Ava, who stood in front of him with her hands in her back pockets. Juice leaned back against the rail, goose bumps rising on his arms as the wind tossed water beads at his back, and Koz gave him a quick, dirty look. "My wife, my business," he said by way of explanation. Ava frowned. Koz nodded.

The Tacoma SAA motioned toward the other chair. "Sit," he told Ava ", we need to talk."

She took her hands out of her pockets so she could cross her arms over her chest. "Not really in the mood."

"Sure about that? 'Cause you seemed like you had a shit ton to say in there."

Juice's hands felt fidgety so he gripped the top rail of the porch.

Ava tilted her chin at a defiant angle, but her voice was tremulous. "You're just gonna defend her."

_Of course he is, _Juice wished he'd thought to bring this up in the bedroom. Because if situations were reversed, he'd be doing the same thing. And he knew hearing it from Koz was going to change the way she thought of her "uncle". He gripped the rail tighter. So be it – if Ava lost some of that uncle-worship, it might keep her clear of him, consequently his girl, and the trouble the woman had brought them today.

"Why shouldn't I?" Koz shot back, and as predicted, it sent Ava one small step away from him.

"She's lucky you're so forgiving," she said in a quieter voice than Juice, or probably Koz had expected.

He rolled his eyes. "Nah. I'm a pretty fuckin' ornery SOB most of the time. You only see me at my more dazzling moments. Live with me a month, and I guarantee we'd have guns drawn on each other by day twenty eight." He leaned forward and Juice felt himself take a step away from the rail before he could prevent it. Koz darted him a glance and held it while he very deliberately rested his elbows on his thighs and clasped his hands together. _Really? _His eyes seemed to ask. "Cass puts up with a lot of my shit," he told Ava. "I'm not stupid. Cute. An amazing lay…but not stupid. I know I got a good thing going. And whatever you're thinking, I'm not whipped. I've had the opportunity to walk on more than one occasion."

Ava snorted.

Koz's jaw flexed as he ground his teeth. "You had the camera. I'm gonna guess you looked through more than just the trip pics, huh?"

Juice instantly recalled the odd look on his wife's face when she'd seen the photos of Koz playing Matchbox cars with a little dark-headed boy.

She lowered her chin in silent concession and Koz grinned. "You can admit it. I know you did. You saw her kid Lucas, Luc, with a cast on his leg." When she didn't respond, he said ", I did that."

"Did what?"

"Back in May, Cass had this work thing in Portland and she had nobody to watch the kid. I mean, _everybody_ was busy: her mom, her ditzy-assed friend Sonia, the little old lady down the street…hell, even Janine was gone for the first two days. So I agreed to step up." Juice still wasn't sure whose side he was on, or if he should even be taking sides, he was here to watch out for Ava, but he realized he was nodding. That's what you did when you had a girl who had a kid, you stepped the fuck up. "I get along with the kid," Koz went on ", the part that scared me was feeding him. But he's old enough, he knows what to eat and Cass left tons of food. She was only gone four days, Ava, and even then, he managed to get hurt real fuckin' bad. On my watch. She trusted me and I broke her kid."

"Kids get hurt, Koz," Ava said. "Please! You didn't 'break him' on purpose."

"Of course I didn't. I wouldn't hurt the kid. Shit happens, right? We can't always control everything."

"Exactly." Ava said it so firmly, with such a hard nod, that it took her a moment to realize what she'd just agreed to. Then Juice watched the muscles in her face go slack. So this was that camp counselor, reverse psychology bullshit she'd always mentioned about Koz. He'd finally gotten to see it in action.

Koz leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed steadily on the girl. "Exactly," he repeated. "Kinda like how Cassie can't control her past coming back to bite her in the ass. She'd never hurt me," his voice was full of a conviction Juice had never heard from the man. "And she'd never hurt this club."

**-O-**

The nightmare.

She'd never been one to believe in omens or signs, not realistically anyway. But there it had been, a great big subconscious slap. She wished she'd stayed in bed. Koz probably wished she'd stayed home. The rest of the inhabitants of cabin six probably wished she'd never been born.

As she tread carefully through the maze of puddles, watching the lightning turn them to quicksilver with every flash, Cassie pulled deep within her protective shell, and recalled the truth behind that morning's nightmare even though it was the last thing she wanted to do.

Cassie and Michael Purcell were two people who should never have shaken hands, let alone had a child together. But in the aftermath of her father's death, she'd been searching for something – something that wasn't Mike, but he'd sure seemed like it at the time. Dinah had hated him right off the bat, but all she could do was caution her: _"It's your life Cassandra, do as you please, but don't expect me to stand around watching while you flush it down the toilet."_ Mama had been right, because mamas were always right, and when Cassie told him she was pregnant, the tense and tattered relationship had ruptured. She could still remember the blame in Mike's eyes when he called her a whore. His performance had been worthy of a Maury Povich baby-daddy special. That was when she'd started hating him, just a little, and herself if she was honest. But if he didn't want her or the baby, fine, Cassie Brigalia hadn't been raised a beggar, so home she'd gone.

But he came back. Apologies. Tears – false, she now knew, but she'd wanted to believe. Wanted so badly to think that the man she'd fallen in love with once upon a time was still in there. Blame it on hormones, on youthful naiveté, but she'd taken him back.

Their marriage became a war. And the final battle kicked off when Luc was eighteen months old.

_Cassie took the stairs up to their apartment two at a time, breathing in deep, ragged draws, ignoring the pain that shot up her leg as her high heels betrayed her and her ankle rolled off a step. She kept going, tears building behind her eyes until it felt like her head was swelling. The look on her branch manager's face had told her everything she needed to know. And her downstairs neighbor shouldn't have needed to call. Mike was home, everything should be fine, Mike was home, why would she call…?_

_She could hear the screams as she reached the landing and tested the knob. It was locked, and her hands were shaking so badly she fumbled her keys twice before she managed to let herself in. Luc's wails assaulted her ears as she rushed into the living room, so loud, so panicked, like he was in so much pain._

_Mike was sitting in front of the TV, beer in one hand, remote in the other, channel surfing with absolute indifference to his screaming son down the hall. Cassie could see only half of his face, and it was a blank, inhuman mask devoid of all emotion. Intentionally cold. Distant. A hair's breath from an explosion – she'd learned to read the calm for what it was – but he raised the bottle to his lips and ignored her._

_Cassie didn't spare him more than a passing glance as she went to the nursery. The door was shut. Because Luc was wailing so loudly that it was bothering Mike. "Oh, God, oh, God," she whispered under her breath, praying, fearful of the condition in which she was about to find her child. _

_Luc sat in the middle of his crib, his face an angry red. His cheeks and clothes were wet with tears. When he saw her, he sucked in a huge breath and screamed with all his little might, reaching for her with one arm. His other arm didn't move; it was bent at a sickening angle, obviously the source of pain. _

_Cassie nearly fainted. Instead, she murmured ", shh, it's okay, baby, Mommy's here." She kept her voice soothing. "I'm here, I'm here. Everything's gonna be alright." She lifted the lanky toddler up into her arms, his wet face pressed against her neck, his cries muffled against her shoulder. Awkwardly, she collected his favorite blanket, and with her arms locked tight around him, fled in the steadiest, calmest gait that she could manage. She waited for Mike to erupt, but he kept watching TV as they left the hall, crossed the room, slipped out the door and down the steps. Cassie wasn't able to inhale until she had Luc buckled into his car seat and was shifting into drive._

She remembered the hospital, the lights and beeps and flashes, the nurses and doctors. The helplessness of being stuck in a chair, waiting for news. She remembered being ushered from his room because she was too hysterical. Remembered the horror of listening to his sobs die down to silence. Dinah had come, the thunderous clip of her heels on the tile like the sound of angel wings. And then the doctor. Luc was going to be fine. Radial fracture and dislocated shoulder. His arm had been twisted until it broke.

_As the doctor retreated, Cassie sank back down into her chair with a strangled sob she'd been trying to hold in for hours. The hospital wanted to keep him for a little while, to ensure there were no complications, but Luc was going to be fine. But what was 'fine'? What happened when they went home? What if –_

"_Cassie," Dinah had been patiently quiet the entire time. Cassie glanced up across the aisle between the chairs at her mother. She was a rock as always, the master of suppression. Dinah's face was unreadable, her appearance flawless. "Luc is your most prized possession?" she asked._

_Cassie dabbed at her eyes, suddenly embarrassed to be crying. "Yes."_

"_And you love him above all else?"_

_Fresh tears spilled onto her cheeks and she gave up on stopping them. "More than anything. More than life itself."_

_Dinah sighed and it was an elegant sound coming from her. "Then how do you plan on protecting him?"_

_It was what Cassie had been asking herself all night. She shook her head and remained mute._

"_The only way to protect your son, Cassandra is to keep that man out of your lives." She leaned forward in earnest. "You're the only one who can stop this. Michael Purcell is NEVER going to change, regardless of how contrite he appears or how much he begs. If you don't get away, you and Lucas will both end up dead, mark my words. I've buried more than my fair share of loved ones. I won't be a witness to any more. If you need help putting an end to something that never should have begun in the first place, I'll help you... until then, you know how to reach me." Her mother stood, kissed her on the forehead, and left the hospital._

She _had_ ended things, goddamn it. She'd spent that night in the rocker in Luc's nursery, a baseball bat across her knees as she'd strained for any sounds that might have signaled Mike's homecoming. But the next day, she'd been gone. And by the time Mike's drunken ass rode his bike straight over the side of a rain-slicked cliff, they'd been three years divorced, four years separated, and Cassie was no longer associated with the Topanga Canyon crew.

Koz knew most of it, the essential bits anyway, and they'd never spoken of it again. But there were things she'd left out, parts she hadn't thought he'd ever need to know…but those secrets had come hunting her today. And the thought of causing him, or his club, trouble of any kind, was a steady throb behind her temples, only dulled in comparison by her sheer panic over Luc's safety.

She didn't know what to expect back at the cabin, but Koz was sitting on the front porch in a cheap plastic chair, and there was no one else in sight. Cassie climbed up to the top of the steps and then just stood there, drained, emotionally and physically.

Koz twitched her a grin. "Like your shirt."

She glanced down at the Brooks & Dunn "Last Rodeo Tour 2010" t-shirt Glen had let her borrow. "Yeah," she pulled at the hem and looked upside down at the logo. "I got kinda wet. I have to return it under pain of death. Glen wants to be buried in it."

But she didn't crack a smile as she said it, and Koz patted the chair beside him. "Sit down before you fall down." She did, but didn't feel any better. "You have a nice chat with Janine?"

"Yes and no. She reassured me…but I was trying to piece together Deacon's motives the whole time. Why, besides hurting me for fun, he'd want Lucas."

Kozik sighed. "And? It's almost two a.m., Cass. I'm in no mood for guessing games."

She took a deep breath, nodded, and let it out in a rush. Still, her throat started to close up. "I got a certified letter – at my mom's house – a couple months after Mike died. We were already living in Tacoma, so Mom faxed it to me. It was from a savings and loan place and my first thought was that my name was still somehow linked to Mike and now I had defaulted on whatever the fuck he hadn't paid." Her mouth felt dry, so she paused to swallow, not sure if Koz's silence was a positive or a negative. "I was pissed, but not surprised. I told you about that boat he left me," she shook her head ", but the letter was about a minor custodial account in Luc's name. And Mike was the guarantor."

The rain picked up again, fat drops landing on the roof above them. "How much?"

She'd always prided herself on her privacy, that she wasn't dependent on anyone. The words didn't want to come, but she forced them out with a sigh. "A little over three hundred thousand."

Koz whistled softly. "There's your motive right there, darlin'. Damn. Where's the money now?" She shot him a sideways glance and saw the creases that she knew blossomed between his eyebrows when he was concentrating very hard on not overreacting. "Come on, Cass, people kill for less."

"Invested. I set up a trust fund for Lucas. He can't touch it until he's twenty one."

"Where'd Mike get the money?"

"I don't have a clue -,"

"Guess!"

It was a miracle she could even speak. The tightness had spread to her chest, until it felt like there was someone squeezing the air from her lungs. "He was a bouncer at a bar," she said helplessly, still clinging to the scraps of dignity she had left. "He hauled scrap for a living."

Koz's pretty blue eyes looked electric in the next flash of lightning. "And you're thinking he had, what, one hell of a 401K? Get real."

"I don't care where it came from," she said, truthful. "He dog eared it for his son and it's _all_ Lucas has in the world should something happen to me - ,"

"That's my point!" He sighed when she cringed at his tone. "Look, just…calm down. All I'm saying is, why would your asshole, prick of an ex-husband suddenly develop a benevolent alter ego who sets the kid up with three hundred large?"

"He wasn't in the habit of saving money," she admitted, now shaking. "He pissed it all away on smokes, drinks and cards…shit." She shook her head, nearly choking as the words she hadn't wanted to say finally came tumbling out of her mouth. "I think he stole it from his club. Hid it in the account for Luc. And if Deacon knows about the money…I mean, I don't know if he does…but if…then I don't think Mike's death was the accident everyone said it was."

Koz ground his jaw back and forth, the muscles in his cheeks clenching. Another flash illuminated him from behind, hair backlit golden spikes, and eyes, again, startling. And here she'd told him everything…_everything_ everything. Cassie had never felt smaller in her life. She brought a hand to dash at her eyes as the truth of what she'd admitted slammed into her. And shame was overcome by despair. "Zeke," her voice trembled and she couldn't staunch the tears ", if he could kill his own brother…he'd never think twice about killing me or my son."

Koz leaned forward in his chair, so close their heads were almost touching and she felt his hand, rough, warm and comforting as he settled it at the back of her neck, over the new tattoo that was her son's name. Through the haze of tears, she saw a conviction etched into his features that was staggering.

"He will _not_ get to you. Or the boy. I promise you."

Cassie squeezed her eyes shut, grateful and anguished at once. She nodded, but suddenly, she understood what Ava had meant when she'd erupted. If Koz risked himself to protect her…he risked his club too.

**-O-**

The rain had slackened only slightly, and Koz continued to find comfort in it beneath the cabin's porch. None of the others had returned, but when he saw Juice trudging back up through the slop, he wasn't surprised. The Puerto Rican geek sat down heavily on the top step and started unlacing his muddy boots – a habit he'd attained at home no doubt. Women of all ages had this thing about dirty shoes and floors.

"Party dying down?" Koz asked him, though he knew it wasn't.

"Nah." He set his boots beside him and stared out at the night, elbows on his knees. "Just don't feel like it."

Koz snorted. "It's true, huh? When Mama's not happy, nobody's happy?"

"Something like that."

They sat in silence a moment, both of them watching the rain, and then Koz's phone beeped to alert him of a text message. _Picture Message _his screen read. And it was from Cassie's phone. Which, seeing as how Cassie didn't currently have her phone, this could only mean ill tidings. "Fuck," her muttered once the image loaded. He was staring at a picture of himself, wearing his cut, SAA patch on full display, standing beside Luc and Cassie in front of the huge reaper mural at the Tacoma clubhouse.

"What?" He'd almost forgotten Juice was out here. The Redwood member was twisted around, giving him a curious look.

"Cass dropped her phone earlier," he said ", and those shitheads are letting me know they have it. And that they're actually fucking smart enough to figure out my name through pics and text messages."

"A trained monkey coulda figured that out," Juice said, getting to his feet and moving to join him.

Koz sighed. "My point exactly." He offered his cell up to the techno nerd for examination.

"You haven't called and had it turned off yet?"

"Hadn't gotten around to it…but I dunno. Maybe it's better to keep the lines of communication open. Maybe then they won't feel the need to jump my woman in the goddamn street again."

Juice gave a little half nod and frowned as he handed the phone back. "Hey, um, these guys…we got anything to worry about here?"

Juice never had just one question, and Koz read all those that were unasked in his face. He was thinking about the bruise on his girl's arm. The accusations that had come tumbling out of her mouth. And, like everyone, doubtless, was wondering if the Topanga Canyon Club might actually try to fuck with the Sons just to hurt Cassie. "Honestly," Koz deleted the pic on his phone with a quick punch of buttons ", I have no idea how far they're willing to go. I know what they're after, and that they won't ever get it. Now we just gotta wait and see how persistent the lead dickhead wants to be."

When his phone rang, they both glanced at it. He answered on the first ring.

"Kozik?" Dinah's voice had an unusual edge to it. "I just received a disturbing phone call."

"I can guess." His stomach did an unpleasant lurch. Already, this Deacon fucker was going further and taking bolder steps than he would have thought possible.

**-O-**

Rain was still falling, the drops pattering softly against the bedroom's single window. Ava had left the lights off, the frequent tongues of lightning that skirted the bellies of the clouds bright white and bathing the room in daylight when they flashed. Juice had left her over an hour ago – to find a drink, a better place to sleep, a girl, who knew. She didn't much blame him. So it surprised her when she realized that the door was creaking open and a shadow was slipping into the room with her.

"It's me," Juice said, even though the lightning quickly told her the same thing.

She was sitting with her back to the headboard, wrought iron details digging into her spine, knees drawn up to her chest. She knew what she looked like – a scared little girl – but did nothing to alter the image.

Juice plopped down on the bed with a sigh, the springs groaning, the headboard slapping the wall, and her back. In the next flash, the lightning put shadows in the corners of his frown; he was frustrated, at her no doubt. Ava felt the tiniest inkling of guilt. She knew she was difficult, knew that goofy, good-natured Juice hadn't had such a short fuse before she'd come into the picture. She shouldn't have shouted across the cabin. Shouldn't have forced him into a situation that had required him to physically drag her away. Shouldn't have even suggested that he take an opposing side against a brother.

But he shouldn't have wrestled her onto the fucking bed. And she wasn't giving anyone a free goddamn pass just because she spread her legs for a Son. She scooted down in the bed, slipped beneath the covers and rolled away from Juice, so she faced the wall. "I'm sorry," she said stiffly, just so she could go to bed and leave this for the time being.

She felt his hand on her hip and he worked her shirt up, sliding his thumb beneath the waistband of her sleep shorts and passing it across the tender, white skin there. "You're not sorry for all of it."

"I'm sorry for pitching a fit," she clarified. "And I'm sorry I yelled at you. But I'm not sorry for what I think about _her_."

"Big surprise," he said with a sigh that ended in a hollow chuckle. His hand moved away, but then the bed dipped and he was stretching out beside her. She felt his body settle against the contours of her back, one of his legs sliding between hers, his arm draping across the smallest part of her waist with his hand tucked up under her chin, forearm between her breasts. With the exception of having her head on his chest, it was her favorite type of cuddle. It made her feel small, warm and safe, and it made Juice seem larger than the man he was, more her valiant hero than the court jester. "You really are nuts, baby," his mouth and cheek rested just in front of her ear and the words were a vibration through her face. "You should know better than anyone what it's like to have enemies."

She knew he was right, just like she knew he'd never really been the court jester, but she had to push things. She just had to. "I was born an Irish enemy. I didn't choose to be one."

"Cassie didn't choose that either."

"She didn't have to marry into that family."

He didn't have a response to that. Lightning flashed again, booming thunder on its heels, and the rain spattered against the window, harder than it had before.

"Well," Juice said with a thoughtful-sounding breath after a moment ", I don't think you wanna push Koz on this one. You _can't _be disrespectful to a brother like that. And you can't make a guy choose between his woman and…other family. The woman wins every time."

It was almost too warm inside his embrace, but Ava shivered. He sounded tired, careful, and authoritative. He didn't sound like Juice at all. "It's been a long day," she said in a thick voice she didn't recognize ", and I've been manhandled enough. Let's just go to sleep."

But his arm tightened around her and he pulled her along as he rolled onto his back. Ava felt a streak of stubbornness go racing through her body that left tears in her eyes, but her resistance was laughable, and much more gently than earlier, he positioned her so she lay draped across his chest, his arm banded tight around her. His other hand pushed back the hair that had fallen across her face. "I'm sorry," he said ", about before. But we can't go back to that place where you push me away. That's no good for us."

Ava nodded against the worn cotton of his shirt, tears dampening the corners of her eyes. When lightning flared again, she slid an arm across his waist, hugging him tight.

**-O-**

Koz had assured her that he'd spoken to Ava: she was free to take a shower without fear of finding herself in a scene out of _Psycho. _Though she still gave the closed bedroom door a wide berth. Cass now emerged from the cabin - clean and sporting dry clothes, her hair up in a towel-turban. She took up the seat next to Koz and propped her bare feet on the porch railing.

"Shower help?"

"Little," she sighed. "What I could really use is a cigarette and a sub-zero shot of Stoli's"

"I can help ya with one, darlin'," he said with a grin, digging inside his cut and offering her his pack of Marlboro Reds. She felt his eyes on her as she debated, then finally gave in to the nicotine's promise to take the edge off. She rolled it between her fingers while he stowed the pack again, and leaned forward to accept his offered light. Her first drag was long, she held it, and exhaled in a deep sigh that seemed to loosen some of the tension across her shoulders. Cassie was an occasional smoker: only when she drank or when life got crazy.

"Don't tell Lucas. You remember how he got after that health fair at school in April."

Koz chuckled, an honest laugh, at the memory of the kid's minor melt down. He'd been so freaked out at seeing his mom smoke, he'd lugged some fat health book home and made her sit at the table with him while he pointed out pictures of healthy lungs and those of smokers. _"What you gonna do when you cant breath no more cause you messed up your lungs real bad?" _The kid hadn't found amusement in Koz's offered response of, "grow gills". Cassie had made a point of not smoking around the kid and Koz always took it outside because he wasn't about to abstain; nicotine was the glue that held his pieces together. "Your secret's safe with me, sweetheart."

Her eyes flicked to his face a moment, tracing the familiar lines and planes, reading his meaning of "secret" as so much more than her smoking habit. Finally, she nodded and sighed, "thank you." She stood and moved the crappy lawn chair over until it butted up next to his. When she was settled again, she leaned against him, grateful for the arm he settled across the back of the chair. "Is it crazy that I hold out hope of this all ending…peaceably? I don't want trouble for your. For your family."

"Craziness and hope, Cassie ... two emotions that seem to belong together."

**TBC**


	7. Black Hills Portend

**7. Black Hills Portend**

When dawn came, it was wreathed in mist and fog leftover from the night's storm. Cassie set the pitiful little coffee pot to brew and then crept silently on her bare feet toward the door of the cabin. It was silent as a tomb; for once Koz was still asleep, snores were coming from the bunk room, and the door to the bedroom was shut. It felt cold and lonely being the only one awake, and she pulled Koz's sweatshirt down over her pajamas as she eased through the door. She had thought to enjoy the porch by herself, but was startled to see that someone had already beat her to it.

It was Juice, she realized, as her heart rate returned to normal. He was on his back, ankles hooked under the foot rail that supported the porch bannister, doing situps. He was listening to his iPod, but must have felt her footsteps through the floorboards, because he came to his feet in a series of quick moves that seemed more lithe than she would have thought him capable. He was in great shape, that became even more evident as he stood in front of her shirtless and popping the buds out of his ears, but there was something clumsy-looking about him. So the grace had been unexpected.

"Hey." He snagged his t-shirt off the porch rail and shrugged into it. His face was flushed from the exercise, the deep scar in his eyebrow looking white in contrast, and for a moment, just a tiny moment, with the morning air bringing a chill up her arms and with the whole world dead around them, Juice seemed almost…_almost_…dangerous. He at least didn't look like some dim-witted fool who Ava had married so that she could run rough shot over him.

"Hey." She decided not to play the guilty outsider and took a seat in the same plastic chair she had the night before. "Kind of a nice morning."

He nodded and leaned back against the rail, arms and ankles crossed. "Wish I'd had room to bring my sneaks." Juice glanced out at the misty grey landscape. "We jog at home."

Even if she was still reeling from the night before, Cassie felt a smile tug at her lips when she envisioned Juice and Ava in matching Nikes with the baby in one of those jogging strollers. "You two are really close," she ventured.

He nodded.

"Did you meet before or after you patched in?" She wanted to mentally slap herself for asking that question. What was she doing? The man's wife_ hated_ her. But when he turned toward her, an amused frown on his face, she found herself anticipating not the answer, but just the words themselves. He was from New York somewhere, and his accent, though dulled by California, reminded her of her father's. Luca Brigalia had been a quintessential guinea from Brooklyn before a stint in the US Marine Corps transplanted him on the other coast and he'd never lost his accent.

"How old do you think I am?" he asked, though kindly. Cassie was taken aback for a moment and he grinned. "After," he said, glancing away again.

_There's a story there, _she thought with certainty. And it brought to mind a conversation she'd had with Koz about the baby photo labeled _Samuel James Morales_ _Jr._ in his wallet.

"_Sam is a junior but Juice's last name is Ortiz…"_

"_Yeah, and he's 'Daddy' for all intents and purposes."_

"I didn't mean to cause trouble," she said quietly.

"Neither did she," his tone was a blend of apology and warm, if not sad affection for his wife, flavored with the Yankee drawl she missed more with every word. "She just can't help it."

She was saved from asking any more dumb questions when the door creaked open and Koz emerged clad only in jeans. Cass had to grin as she watched him yawn and stretch, rub one sleepy eye with the heel of his palm. His fastidious hair spikes were in complete disarray. He mumbled a greeting to the both of them, yawned again, and then spied her outfit. "Thief," he said with a smile.

She smoothed her hands down the Sturgis 2017 hoodie he'd bought the day before. "Morning, baby. I put coffee on. You want some?"

He plucked a fresh cigarette from behind his ear. "Caffeine and nicotine…breakfast of champions."

She nodded and rose, getting up on her tiptoes for a kiss before she headed inside. She paused at the door though and turned back. "Juice? Coffee?"

"Nah. I'm good."

**-O-**

Janine was so not getting a Christmas card this year. Ava hadn't been able to eat breakfast; she'd been choking down a cup of coffee and wondering who she wanted to avoid the most that day, her husband, or Cassie, when Janine had come bursting in the front door of their cabin like she hadn't spent the whole previous day hugging the toilet and made the decision for her. The Tacoma queen bee still looked a little pale and it was obvious that her normal exuberance was forced, but Ava didn't feel much like inquiring after her health as she sullenly followed the cluster of Old Ladies down the sidewalk. "Girls' day!" Janine had nearly shouted, and Koz and Juice had of course thought that was a good plan, had practically shoved them out the door. And so here she was, walking beside Tara with her arms folded, two Tacoma prospects she didn't know with Phin and Rio from Redwood trailing them to some as-of-yet-to-be-determined location.

"Hey," Tara lowered her voice to just barely above a whisper. Janine was talking loudly enough to provide sufficient cover. "What went on yesterday with you and…" she pointed at Cassie in front of them.

Koz's girl was in a short denim skirt and black halter top number with little pink roses embroidered all the way around the hem, and Ava was _not_ going to admit that the top was cute. She wrinkled her nose up and leaned toward Tara. They were the same height and wore shoes with similar heels, so it made for optimum gossiping. "We were coming out of the tattoo shop," Ava whispered ", and these guys – some wannabe riding club outta Cali – were waiting for us. One was her brother-in-law or something. If Florida hadn't just happened by…" she shook her head and held up her arm for inspection. The bruise was turning an angry, dark color, the shapes of fingers clearly visible around the delicate bones of her wrist.

Tara gasped silently, mouth falling open. "Jesus," she whispered. "They_ grabbed_ you? What'd they want with _you_?"

"Apparently, Cassie's just so much fun, they wanna get her 'friends' involved too."

"Did Koz know about these guys?"

"Who knows. He acted like it was no big deal."

Tara shook her head, scowling. "The last thing we need is for the club to get into some kinda beef with a civilian club at goddamn Sturgis."

Ava gave her a look of agreement. "That'll be my luck: we leave here with me knocked up and Juice locked up." She realized, almost too late, that Janine and Cassie had come to a halt in front of them. Ava staggered a step to keep from running into them.

"We're here," Janine announced, flinging her arms out to the side with a flourish.

"Is that a -," Tara started.

"Fortune teller," Ava finished. "Jesus Christ."

**-O-**

They were in their cuts today and the others in the miniature tent city, vendors and customers alike, were giving them curious glances. Tailpipes, handlebars, grips, dials and meters, customized fuel tanks, and ferrings hung on metal display screens. T-shirts, rags and any number of small accessories from key chains to ball caps were laid out on folding tables sporting the banners of each individual vendor. Koz walked alongside RJ with Jinx and Lazarus making an odd pair behind them. He spotted Jax up ahead talking to Ope, probably haggling over the handlebars in the SAMCRO President's hands. Suzy trailed along at the tail of their procession, looking slightly pale. He'd clearly taken Koz's threat of payback when he least expected it to heart.

"_Take It Out And Play With It,_ " RJ chuckled as he read the long decal Koz held up.

"Yeah." Koz nodded. "I think it would look good on the Jeep," referring to his other mode of transportation for days , and there were quite a few in the Pacific Northwest, deemed too hazardous for bike travel.

"You got a kid to think 'bout now, bro. Gotta watch your double entendre."

"Shut up." He tucked the decal under his arm. "Hey, Burt get ahold of you?"

"Yeah, last night. Said Lil' Italy will only speak to you... apparently our _paisan_ is having memory trouble."

"Great," Koz mumbled. Given the total clusterfuck this trip was becoming, the last thing he needed were employment issues when he returned home.

"Bochicchio makes a fuckin' mint off us. We kick back a third of our full sal to his ass for keepin' us on the books as contracted union guys. in exchange for job flexibility and taxable income to report to the IRS," RJ went on to state the obvious.

Koz was in no mood to get into an _our mother-fuckin' career_ argument. "Have Burt find out Joe's schedule for next week; tell him to keep his inquiry on the downlow. Surprise visits work best." He realized, with a sigh, that his little window sticker was going to require him to wait in line, so he took his spot, resigning to wait.

"That all man?" he was greeted at the folding table that served as a checkout desk.

Koz eyed the tall skinny guy who looked like he had a dead ferret on his top lip. "Yeah…" but spotted two impulse purchases to the left of the register. "Take one of those too. And that one." He pulled out his wallet as his cell phone began to ring inside his cut, so he withdrew both, fumbling bills and cursing as he flipped open the phone.

"Yeah?"

"This _Koz_?" an unfamiliar male voice mispronounced his name.

"Yeah," the back of his neck prickled with wariness. In a fast move, he pulled the phone away and checked the ID display. It was Cassie's number. "Who the fuck is this?"

"Oh, so it's gonna be like that."

"Deacon?" Koz guessed, anger flaring. He gestured to RJ to wrap things up for him with the now-gaping, ferret-mustached vendor, and stepped around a trash can.

The guy on the other line chuckled. "Guess she's been talkin' about me. Bitch always did have a mouth on her."

He was being baited, and experience told him not to take it, to keep his cool. But his free hand curled into a fist. "_Talkin' _never hurt anybody. And last I checked, only _bitches _would threaten a kid."

As he'd anticipated, the asshole couldn't stomach an insult directed at him. "Hey! It doesn't have to come to that! I never said I _wanted_ to hurt the kid. I'm just after what's mine."

"And what would that be?"

"Mike never could keep his little cunt in line. She _stole from my club_. And I dunno how you Sons deal with that kinda shit, but thievin' bitches ain't tolerated in Topanga Canyon."

Appealing to his MC reputation for keeping women on a tight leash. Smart. Koz turned in a slow circle, scanning the interior of the tent. If he could find the motherfucker, he'd put his thumbs through his eyes. "Cass is with me," he could hear the low, dangerous edge to his voice that meant he was close to losing control of his composure. "Whatever beef you got with her, you take up with me. We clear? So why don't you come outta your hole and let's straighten this shit out, _bitch_." He liked calling him that.

Deacon seethed unintelligibly on the other end for a moment. "Fuck you," he said. "You tell her the old man wants to see her. You'll get a call with details. She don't show up…Dinah-ma gets paid a visit."

The line went dead.

**-O-**

Juice turned over the beer cozy in his hand and pulled a disgusted face when he saw the price tag. "They're runnin' a goddamn racket up here," he grumbled, tossing the foam sleeve back into the bin at his feet.

"Aye," Chibs had been looking at sunglasses and had apparently come to the same conclusion. "Fuckin' ridiculous."

Though the tent was full to bursting with bike accessories, Juice knew none of them were in his price range. Souvenirs he could stomach, they were a given, but no way was he paying two-hundred above catalogue price for a set of handlebars he didn't need. The tourists were eating up the vendors' lies about "limited edition" and "only at Sturgis". But if he wanted to upgrade his bike, he'd do it at home.

As they moved to the next table, Juice glanced back over his shoulder at the group of Tacoma Sons and frowned. The longer the morning stretched, the more he started to regret letting Janine drag Ava off on a girls' day. They had four prospects with them, but it would only take one bullet…

"Hey, you wanna get outta here?"

Chibs shrugged. "Don't care." He looked up from above the rims of his shades. "Why?"

Reluctantly, Juice filled the Scot in on the previous day's events.

He whistled. "Christ. You tell Jax?"

"Yeah. And maybe I'm just being paranoid, but -,"

"Maybe not. Aye. Let's go find our girl."

**-O-**

Though Cassie had never been sure she wanted anyone telling her what her future held – for fear the news wouldn't be promising – she'd always been fascinated by places like this. They left the prospects on the sidewalk, and the moment they entered, Sturgis fell away and they were transported to an alternate universe of sorts. The standard issue, rectangular shop had been trussed up so thoroughly, they could have been inside a sultan's palace. Persian look-a-like carpets in deep russets, plums, oranges and lemon yellows overlapped across the floor, a messy patchwork that was still pleasing to the eye. No color was off limits. Slippery jade panels flanked the door and gave way to plum sheers and ivory swatches embellished with intricate beadwork. A circular, claw-foot table stood just inside the door. It held a sturdy wrought-iron candelabra and an assortment of mismatched crystal vases filled with colored glass beads and live orchids that seemed to thrive despite the lack of sunlight.

Overhead, a large lantern with golden glass panels hung from a chain with links large enough to encircle a person's wrist. The couches and chairs along the walls were an odd mix of tattered Victorian and far-east simplicity. There was a beautiful, jeweled hookah in one corner. The place had the air of the hold of a pirate ship that had been filled with the spoils of exploration. And something smelled lovely, incense probably, though the scent was thick and making Cassie feel suddenly light-headed.

Heavy wooden shelves filled with books, knick-knacks, ceramic pots and jars created a false wall and left room for a small door between. The curtain of hanging beads was thrust aside suddenly and a woman stepped out to greet them. She wasn't tall, but thick, with wide hips that swung side to side with each step. The cut of her skirt hid all but her bare feet, but the peasant top flaunted her large breasts and the delicate-by-contrast tattoo work over her collar bones. A dozen necklaces dangled to her stomach. Bangles ran up her arms and a jeweled belt ran around her plump waist. The yellow light enhanced the gold sheen of her already radiant skin: it was a deep copper color, shiny, smooth and blemish free. Her face was a perfect circle, her eyes huge and ringed with thick, jet black strokes of liner. And her hair might have been the most stunning: black and secured in a strange topknot held together by colored scarves and gold chains, the rest tumbling in a black wave down her back, all if it gleaming like it had been oiled.

"Welcome, welcome," her accent was thick and made Cassie think of the Caribbean. And when she smiled, her teeth were pearl-white. "I am Mama. Please come in, dark children, so I may show you the light within yourselves."

Janine turned around and gave them all a wide-eyed smile as "Mama" disappeared behind the beaded curtain once more. "Well?"

Cassie heard muttering and sighing from the Charming women behind them as they proceeded through the clacking beads and into a dark, cramped little space that was occupied by a round table sitting just six inches off the floor. A lantern with purple panes was sitting in the middle of the table, smoking incense sticks on either side of it, and the cloying scent of lavender, mint and spice was even stronger back here.

"Sit," Mama commanded them. She had already worked her way around behind the table and gestured to the embroidered cushions that ringed the table.

Janine slid in first, on purpose Cassie would wager, because she ended up sitting between the Tacoma queen and Ava. The Niece had a pinched, unpleasant expression on her face, and when she shot a dark look at Janine, her eyes raked over Cassie as well. Now, her anger was just being stoked by skepticism and annoyance. The Redwood queen, Tara, held her nose against the burning, sickly smell of the incense and glancing around at the scarlet walls with obvious distaste.

"Fun, huh girls?" Janine asked.

No one responded because Mama cleared her throat loudly. She produced a deck of cards from beneath the table and set them in a neat stack. "You," she pointed a purple lacquered fingernail at Ava ", you will be first."

She shook her head. "No. That's fine, I really don't wanna –,"

"You will go first," Mama repeated in a cheerful, but somehow commanding voice, moving the tarot cards within Ava's reach. "Cut the deck."

Ava sighed and raked her teeth over the corner of her bottom lip in a show of reluctance, but did as she was told. Mama took half the deck and fanned them before Ava, face-down. "Choose four. And choose wisely."

Ava rolled her eyes as she did so. Cassie could guess some of what she was thinking: choosing carefully when you couldn't see what you were choosing had no relevance.

Mama swept the rest of the cards away and lay the chosen out in a neat row, still face-down. Then she started turning them over one by one. "The Empress," she pointed at the first in a voice that had become deep and echoed strangely inside the small room. "The mother. The womb. The place where art and love and sex come to maturity. Fertile. Represented by Venus, goddess of all things beautiful, sensual and artful. You are creative. And you love deeply. You will be a splendid mother."

Ava huffed a rude little sigh but Mama ignored her, turning over the next card. "The Ace of Swords," her eyes seemed to sparkle in the candle light. "This foretells an awakening of mind or spirit. You have accepting something new in your life and embarked on a journey." This time, some of frown lines between Ava's brows melted away.

The next card depicted a naked child riding a white pony. "The Sun card. Your heart will multiply..." she closed her eyes. "Here," she reached a hand across the table. "Hand."

Ava hesitated. "What do you mean 'my heart will multiply'?"

Mama snapped her fingers. "You wish to have a child, no?"

Janine and Tara gasped in unison and Ava thrust her hand across the table, brows climbing her forehead, as Mama took it in her own. The big woman ran the tips of her fingers over Ava's palm a moment, eyes shut in concentration.

"Yes," she said. "In nine months, I foresee a son of a son."

"But how could you…?" Ava trailed off, all sounds of skepticism gone from her voice as she retracted her hand slowly. Cassie watched as she wet her lips and took a deep breath. "What…what about the last card?"

Mama flipped it over to reveal a knight on a horse, his standard a white rose on a black field. "Death."

Cassie felt the fine hairs standing up on the back of her neck, and one glance at Ava showed that she'd gone paler than pale, her face reflecting the red and purple light around them. Cassie lifted a hand and started to set it on the girl's shoulder, but retracted it at the last moment when she realized her comfort might not be well received.

"Hand again, please," Mama reached for Ava's and the girl was more than hesitant, her fingers looking stiff. "Death does not always mean death," Mama explained. "It is a change, a stripping away of the old to make way for the new. Transition. Humble you will be, grievous, but old things must die before new, better things can take their places."

When the woman's dark hand closed over Ava's white one, Ava closed her eyes and inhaled in a slow rattle. "Old things?" she said through her teeth, more to herself than to the room.

Mama ran her fingers over the girl's palm and then her almond eyes widened. "There was real death, wasn't there, child?" she said in a haunted whisper. When Ava didn't respond, Cassie saw her squeeze her hand. "This is not that kind of death," her voice softened. "This is better though it seems bad. Change is never easy."

As Ava withdrew her hand and settled it in her lap alongside her other, looking very much a ghost, Cassie suddenly dreaded her own reading. Tara reached up and touched the younger woman's shoulder, leaning in to whisper something the rest of them couldn't hear.

"You," Mama started shuffling her cards and turned to Janine. "Cut the deck."

**-O-**

"What was that about?" RJ wanted to know as Koz rejoined the regroup.

He slid his cell into his pocket and shook his head. "Nobody." His friend gave him a disbelieving look but he wasn't about to indulge his curiosity in front of all of his brothers like this. RJ knew the gist of what had happened the day before, but this was not the place for any new revelations.

RJ grunted in acquiescence – he wouldn't push for details. "You're missin' the show," he motioned to the Pan Head that was displayed a few feet from where they stood. There was a girl straddling the seat and curving her back in an evocative way, smiling and shaking her mane of shaggy blonde hair for the benefit of the guys who were standing around her. Jinx was, as expected, running his mouth, and even Lazarus was giving her a good visual once-over.

_Cheap _was Koz's first impression as he stepped up next to his friends. She had fake tits, though nice, a dark tan, unnaturally platinum hair. But all of that was cute. It was the way her makeup caked in the heavy creases around her eyes. The redness at the rims of her nostrils. She looked like a woman hard-used, probably in her twenties chronologically, but in junkie years, much older. As he stepped closer, he saw the mottled, unhealthy look of her skin beneath her tan. Her arms looked clean, which meant she probably shot up in the webs of her fingers and toes. She had been stunning once, beautiful in a rare way, he could tell, even before the implants. But now…she just seemed like another wannabe hangaround.

Even as he was assessing her, her big, bloodshot, cornflower blue eyes swung in his direction. Her lips curved in a practice smile. "Hey."

Jinx made a face – he realized that he and his half-eared friend, RJ too, had become yesterday's news.

Koz nodded at the blonde by way of a rote greeting. "Nice bike. You come with it?"

"I can." She winked at him. In a move that was a well thought out combination of a hair toss and a light caress of her own thigh, she extended a tan, pink-nailed hand toward him. "I'm Sarah."

He felt himself smile: an undeniable reaction to a pretty girl giving him that look. But it was hollow, kept at bay by his frustration and anger over the bullshit that had been heaped onto his plate in the past twenty-four hours. He didn't offer his name in return. "Yeah, well…sorry, Sarah, but now's just not the time, darlin'."

"Oh," she made a pouty little face and slid off the Fat Boy, following him as he started to turn away.

"C'mon, sweetheart," Jinx said. "That one's all borin' and tied down. Ya don't want him, luv."

"Tied down?" her smile was wicked and cute as hell, lines and caked makeup be damned. "I don't mind."

Koz didn't need the bother of her arm sliding through his…but he didn't exactly push her away either. He knew without question that he'd never sneak around while he was on vacation with Cass. But a little attention was always nice. And there was the added bonus of knowing he could shake her off when he got sick of her. Which he would; that he could tell by the way she was raking her nails up his arm through his sleeve.

**-O-**

Though Ava's reading had left her aghast, Janine plunged into her own nevertheless. Cassie felt some of her nerves dissolve as the Tacoma queen was offered a much less disturbing prophecy. Mama predicted that she'd live a long and healthy life, that she'd be a source of support for her family, and when the mystic demanded Janine's palm, she foresaw her surrounded by flowers.

"I ain't dead in your vision, am I? Ya know, surrounded by funeral flowers?"

"You are very much alive," Mama assured. "And invested."

Janine's eyes twinkled brightly in the purple light cast by the lantern, teeth looking eerily white as she smiled in obvious relief. "Okay, well, whatever the hell that's supposed to mean, I'll take it."

As Mama reshuffled her deck of tarot cards, Cassie's moment of peace proved fleeting. She knew she'd be called upon next, and felt goose bumps prickle up her arms as she watched the cards slide over one another. The psychic's eyes were two burning coals as she met them from across the table and Cassie was suddenly sure of two things: this fortune telling stuff might not be the innocent fun Janine had intended, and her reading wouldn't be one of health and flowers.

"There is a darkness over you," Mama's voice deepened again. "A cloud. I sense this even without seeing your cards. Let me show you the light, child," she fanned the cards out ", and free you from the shadows." As Cassie reached hesitantly toward the deck, she spoke again. "Your mother is very wise. But _whatever will be, will be _is not always the way."

Startled, Cassie's gaze shot to the woman's face. How could she have known of Dinah's love for _que sera sera_? Or that she was thinking of it now? She chose her cards carefully, lingering over them for painful moments before finally tapping the edges.

The dark woman's lacquered nails turned over the first and it began, the flickering taper in the lantern seeming to dim. "The Magician. Skillful, self-confident and powerful. Representative of Mercury: master of trickery and prince of thieves….but this is not you. The Magician is someone in your life. Caution, child, you must be cautious. Make sure those closest to you are genuine."

The next card depicted a tower on a rocky shore, foaming waves crashing against its base to welcome the two figures that were falling from the parapet. Lightning cleaved the dark sky behind the tower. "Great," Cassie sighed ", no long, healthy life for me?"

"The Tower card. A war card."

She groaned. A hand settled on her thigh in a comforting gesture and she knew it was Janine.

"A war against what is false, against lies and misguided beliefs that are destined to come crumbling down. Like on the card," she tapped the rectangular image, "the lightening. _FLASH!_ Truth comes suddenly, Child… a truth that will leave you shaken, torn down, blown asunder. Nothing built on a lie, on falsehoods, can remain standing for long. Better for it to come down so that it can be rebuilt on truth, or not rebuilt at all, if that is best. This awakening is not going to be pleasant or painless or easy, but it will be what is right. "

Cassie's head hurt. She rested her elbow on Mama's table and pressed her index and pointer fingers into her throbbing temple. This had been a bad goddamn idea coming here. She could only imagine all the ways Mama's words were swirling around inside the heads of the women at the table. If her own interpretation was damning….

She blinked twice and sucked in a breath at the sight of the third card. "Are… are those people emerging from graves?"

"The Judgment card. It signals rebirth, resurrection. You can't hide any longer from your past," Mama's voice felt big and deep and as if it were coming from a speaker overhead instead of the woman across the table. It was making the headache worse. "All the coffins have opened, and all that you thought was buried is out in the open. There is no way to leave the past behind. Each step wears down the shoe just a bit, and so shapes the next step you take, and the next and the next after that…. your past is always under your feet. You cannot hide from it, run from it, or rid yourself of it. But you can call it up and come to terms with it."

Trickery, awakening, and judgment. She swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. "Death," Cassie murmured in a fervent whisper. "You don't have to flip it over. I know what the last card is." Her eyes were stinging and she could barely draw her next breath. Without being asked, she shoved her arm across the table at the Mystic. The woman's eyes searched her face before focusing on her upturned palm.

"I foresee the loss of a son." The woman advised, solemnly.

Cassie retracted her hand as if she'd been bitten, and bolted up, rattling the table. She didn't care if it was rude, she fled the room.

**-O-**

Tara eyed the three remaining women around the table, and then glanced at the plump psychic who didn't seem surprised or offended that Cassie had nearly turned over her table full of cards and burning incense in her hasty departure. This whole idea had been ridiculous. She herself had been manipulated once upon a time by Gemma, had learned to cohabitate with the likes of porn stars, crow eaters and various hangers on, but Gem would not have felt the need to push women from different charters together. Janine had really dropped the ball on this one. Speaking of which…

The Tacoma Old Lady was digging into her purse and apologizing to "Mama". Ava was sitting like a little china doll, pale and still and, if Tara knew her at all, which she did, brooding internally.

"What about you?" Mama's heavily accented voice inquired, and Tara shook her head.

"No, thank you," she knew her tone was clipped and didn't care. Like hell did she believe in this bullshit.

But, as they stood to leave, she was struck by an odd impulse. She flipped over Cassie's fourth card. It was a knight on a horse, with a black banner bearing a white rose. Death. "Come on," she grabbed at Ava's arm. "This place gives me the creeps."

**-O-**

_Oh sure, _Ava thought sourly. _We both get death omens but we all have to go running after _her_. _She could feel the hard, sour set to her face and couldn't seem to force a smile when she realized that her husband and father were walking toward them down the sidewalk.

Janine was busy trying to talk to/console Cassie, which put Ava at the head of their little knot, she and Tara walking alongside Phin. Phineas was a big man, his shadow thrown over the both of them, and Juice gave the Prospect an appreciative nod as he approached.

"Hey, thanks man. Can you walk the doc back to Jax? I'll take mine."

"Sure thing."

Tara rolled her eyes. Here in Sturgis, they were precious jewels that needed guarding and escorting every moment.

Ava folded her arms. "What are you doing here?"

Juice cocked his head and gave her an exasperated half-smile. "You can't really still be mad."

Chibs laughed. "Oh, thought you knew better than that by now, Juicy-boy."

The truth was, she wasn't _mad _so much as frustrated, and not feeling especially lovey-dovey at the moment. She could hear the soft, reasonable tone of Dr. Fischer's voice echoing around in the back of her mind, reminding her that "Jean Carlos" was not a "dog" she could kick when life didn't go as planned. Then she took a deep, steadying breath and slid up under his arm, letting him steer her away from the queens' guards and across the street, Chibs on her other side. "I was behaving," she said as they crossed in front of an idle van.

"I know," Juice's response didn't indicate that he thought otherwise.

When they reached the opposite sidewalk, she turned and put her palm on his chest, bringing them both to a halt. Her eyes flicked to Chibs, and as she'd suspected, he fell into an alert stance, body facing the two of them, head turned toward the street, watching their surroundings. Juice's hand came up between her shoulder blades and that's when she knew. She sucked in a quick breath. "There's a problem, isn't there? With that club, they've -,"

"It's fine," Juice's smile would have been convincing…if she didn't know better. His hand slid up under her hair so he was cupping the back of her neck in a sweet way and grinned again for good measure. "I just wanted to spend some time with you."

She narrowed her eyes. _Liar. _

"Well I at least want your opinion on something."

**-O-**

Cassie was shaking so badly as they went down the sidewalk that she was thankful for Janine's steadying hand at her elbow. "It's all bullshit, baby," the Tacoma queen was saying, waving her free hand in casual dismissal. "It was just for fun. We all know that bitch was full of nothing but hot air…and well, boxes of Twinkies judging by her waist, but still…"

There was a steady throb taking up residence behind Cassie's eyes and it had its own rhythm: _thump-thump-thump-THUMP-thump-thump. _It made Janine's voice sound far-away. On top of yesterday's fucked up Top Cay twist, the prophesies of what may or may not have been a total fraud, were too much to take. "Koz," she said, and then shook her head, searching for the rest of the sentence.

One of their prospects, Leon, twisted toward her as they walked. "He checked in while you guys were inside the shop. He and the others are at a tent vendor 'bout four blocks away."

Cassie nodded, clinging to the knowledge. Shooting the figurative bird to her feminine pride, she wanted desperately to get to Koz. And Janine seemed to read her thoughts. "Let's head that way," she said as if it were her idea. "Glen's had his eye on new pipes and I'm tired of the neighbors calling the goddamn cops over the ones he has now." She hooked a strong, steadying arm through Cassie's and they set off down the sidewalk with Leon and Cappy in tow. To an outsider, it wouldn't have looked like she wanted to collapse.

"Leon," Janine instructed ", call Kozik again and make sure they're still there. I'm not in the mood for a wild fuckin' goose chase."

**TBC**


	8. Black Hills Declarations

**8. Black Hills Declarations **

When Kozik's phone rang, he had to pick Sarah's hand off his arm in order to dig it out of his pocket and answer it. The blonde was relentless in her persistence, had followed them around the tent for more than half an hour, touching him when she could, smiling and laughing and whispering things in his ear with her painted lips curved in a sultry smile. She was a hot girl, no questions asked, and he was enjoying the envious looks he was getting from passersby, but when he read the tag "Prospect 2" on his ID display, business took precedence over her heavy-lidded looks.

"Yeah?"

"You guys still at the vendors?" Leon asked.

"Yeah."

"We're headed your way." Leon was with Cass, and he half wondered if there was cause for concern.

"Everything a'ight?"

"We'll be there in ten."

Koz told the prospect where to meet them and hung up with a frown. Leon hadn't been willing to talk, but obviously things were in fact not "a'ight". He glanced toward Sarah as he stowed his phone, liking the expectant way she scraped her teeth over her bottom lip. The last thing he needed was Cassie seeing him with a cheap piece of rally tail.

"Sorry, sweetheart, here's where you and me split up."

**-O-**

The tents were white and reflected the sun in a painful way, the glare making Cassie squint as they approached. A steady stream of pedestrians flowed toward the entrance that seemed some ten feet wide, and as they ducked beneath its shade, she realized it was a veritable city inside. Removable flaps linked all the tents in a continuous, sprawling expanse, and booths and tables housed every conceivable bike part and accessory. Vendors were advertising their wares in booming voices. The grass beneath their feet had been trampled and the air had a hot, sweaty, stale smell, but Cassie felt better just knowing Koz was near.

"Did he happen to mention where to look for 'em?" Janine asked, head swiveling around.

"He said he'd come look for us," Leon said, and came to a halt while he and his fellow prospect scanned the crowds.

"I think I see... who is that? Berg?" Janine said, pointing. "Yeah that's him, and Jinx is wavin'... there's RJ and Glen..."

But when Cass turned her head, it wasn't the small knot of Sons she focused on, but rather, the woman walking toward her.

Perfect blonde hair.

Perfect blue eyes.

Perfect graceful build.

Perfect stunning smile.

Time had worn away at some of her perfection like the relentless wash of waves on a sand bar, but it was still there, though tarnished. And as the tent, the crowd, the Sons, and all of Sturgis fell away around her, Cassie found herself tumbling into some sort of strange dimension in which the past was the present. Voices squirmed around the coils of her brain like snakes.

_"She doesn't deserve you, baby, can't you see that?"_

_"You think she didn't get knocked up on purpose?" _

_"How do you even know that kid is yours? She's a fuckin' whore!"_

_"He never loved you, how could anyone love you? You're a pathetic bitch." _

_"Let her take her bastard kid and get the fuck out, good riddance." _

As she looked on stupidly, unable to catch her breath, her former best friend – the one who'd stabbed her in the back and twisted the knife for good measure, who'd thrown herself into Mike's bed while Cass was trying to gather her son and her dignity and get the hell out of Topanga Canyon – halted in her tracks, turned, and waved at the little band of Sons who were a half a dozen yards off. Jinx waved back, but Koz's face was a thunderhead. Sarah had been after him, of course she had, because that was her way.

Cassie stood rooted, the air inside the tent unrelenting in its heat and humidity, as oppressive as the first level of Hell, and watched her no-longer-best-friend whip back around, platinum hair flying. She strutted forward, pausing within spitting distance of Cassie, gaze shooting sparks. "Whatever else was wrong with you, you at least had good taste in men." She shot an obvious glance over her shoulder back at Koz, smirking. When she turned to Cassie again, the corners of her mouth twisted. "I'd do what Deac says, bitch," she hissed, before stepping away into the busy flow of foot traffic. In a matter of seconds, she was swallowed up by the crowd and it was as if she'd never been there.

But Cassie was shaking too much for it to have been a hallucination. She cursed herself inwardly, hating that the emotional terrorism was doing its job, that she had been reduced to this woman who shivered and fretted and was stunned into silence. This wasn't her!

"Cass!" Koz had come to her while she was still semi-comatose, alone, thankfully, because she jumped when he laid his hand on her arm. "Hey," he took a firm hold on her shoulders, urging her gaze up to his. His face was creased with worry. "Cass, shit, what was that? That girl, you know I wasn't -,"

"I know her," she shook her head. "And she wasn't flirting with you, she was doing recon."

"What?"

She took a deep breath and forced a calmness into her voice that she didn't feel. "You remember how I told you about my old friend Sarah?"

Koz's blue eyes went wide. "_That _was Mike's bitch Sarah? Goddamn it," he growled. "Are you kidding me?" When he swiped a hand down his jaw, she knew he was frustrated: with himself for buying Sarah's bullshit, with the situation…probably frustrated with her too. At every turn, Sturgis became more of a horror story, for all of them, and it was her fault.

Almost hating to, she scanned the crowd around them, knowing that if Sarah were here, the rest of the Top Cays wouldn't be far. After Mike's death, Sarah had become club property, and she was never out of sight of the guys.

"We need to get out of here," Koz said, voice tight.

The rest of the Tacoma Sons were still hanging back, she glimpsed Janine and Glen when she peered around her man's shoulder, and her heart sank when she realized Koz just meant the two of them. She'd become such a liability that he didn't even want her around his brothers. Ava's prediction was proving true and she hated it, swallowed hard as she felt bile rising in her throat. "Okay," she agreed, nodding, glancing up to see the rigid underside of his jaw. There was no softness in his face, no reassurance that things – that they – were alright.

_I foresee the loss of a son._

Mama's prophecy took on a whole new meaning. Not "son", but "Son". She was going to lose Koz over this. She had too much baggage and he was tired of dealing with it.

He steered her around and they began picking their way through the crowd, Cassie holding onto his arm so they wouldn't become separated. They didn't speak. And at the mouth of the tent, Top Cay made the appearance she'd been expecting, though she hadn't in all her nightmares thought she'd see the man leading the charge.

Seeing Deacon Purcell the day before had left her numb, but being face-to-face with the Purcell patriarch again damn near gave her heart failure. Most of his crew called Isaac Purcell "the old man", though his nickname was "Whiskey". Mike had once explained that his father's liver filtration was fucked up in a super-charged way; he could drink any man under the table without so much as slurring. And the inability to get good and drunk had made him a mean, crazy asshole.

The first time she'd laid eyes on him, she'd been four months pregnant and her new father-in-law had welcomed her to the family by cornering her as she was coming out of the bathroom and groping her up against the hallway wall. When she'd made the mistake of telling Mike about the manhandling, Whiskey cornered her again, that time slapping her so hard he'd nearly fractured her cheek. Their last encounter had been two months shy of Luc's birth and Whiskey had been carted away from a Fourth of July picnic in cuffs on aggravated assault charges – something about a bar fight – and his wife Sissy had lived up to the role of enraged, white trash woman, screaming obscenities at the cops.

Mike had been a possessive, jealous hardass.

Deacon was a passive-aggressive psychopath.

Whiskey was the devil incarnate. Tough and suave, well-built in his early sixties, his handsome features had been inherited by both of his sons, though he had the hollow, sinister eyes of a much more dangerous man.

As her eyes tracked over the dark wings of hair above his ears, she noticed several new scars. Sturgis, she realized, was the old man's homecoming run – his first trip since getting out of lockup. And when those evil eyes stared down at her over his long nose, fury bubbled up inside of her.

Koz nudged her side in silent question and she kicked her chin up. "Yet another example of the lovely bloodline my son possesses," she told him, loud enough for the Top Cays to hear. "My only hope is that the Kearny-Brigalia influence is more prominent."

"Hello, darlin'," Whiskey said with a sneer. His voice made her want to take steel wool and a cheese grater to her skin, and banish the word to a curse. "You fall from grace again, Miss Cassie? It breaks my heart to get back on the outside and hear that my Sissy's been denied seein' her only grandchild. You get outta the Canyon, away from us…and here I find you rubbin' elbows, or," he snorted ", most likely more intimate places, with outlaws. Now where's the fairness in that?"

Koz's hand curled around her upper arm and he maneuvered between her and Whiskey, pushing her behind him as they moved around the wannabe bikers. "You said you'd set a time," his words were a shock to Cassie and she nearly stumbled. "So set it, asshole." And then the crowd was surging around them and Koz was pulling her along, the two of them plunging between bodies and putting some distance between themselves and the tent, following the tide of pedestrians out on the sidewalk.

They were two hundred feet away when the gravity of this latest turn hit Cassie. She was forced to slow her walk to keep from falling, and Koz leaned in close as she pressed her knuckles against her lips.

"It'll be alright," he assured.

"No it won't," she whimpered. "It really, really won't."

**-O-**

The Lucky Dragon tattoo parlor was larger than the one that had donated vouchers to mud wrestling winners. It was more cluttered too, in a decorative sense, with a heavy Asian influence in the wall paper and potted plants. It was immaculately clean, however, and the dark reds, greens and golds of the décor were warm. The artist working on Juice had a head full of platinum spikes, a bull ring through his nose and a Daffy Duck tat on his right forearm. He was good though, damn good. All of Ava's fight and trepidation over that fraudulent psychic's predictions had fizzled down to nothing the moment Juice had taken his shirt off and presented her with his new tat. She perched on a stool at his elbow now while the artist finished the intricate shading down at the small of his back.

The tree was gorgeous. The trunk was full of knots and cracks, the bark curling around the edges. Shaggy ghosts of leaves spanned the width of his shoulders and the roots were a gnarled, twisted mess of knobs, rocks and tufts of grass above the waistband of his jeans. It was all done in black and grey, yet the detail was breathtaking. And even more impressive than all that, the part that had pricked tears in the corners of her eyes, were the names that looked as if they'd been carved into the trunk that ran up his spine. "Ava" and "Sam" sat one over top of the other with plenty of room below for the new baby.

She had turned around and stared fixedly at a bronze dragon that seemed alive and three dimensional on the wall, blinking and counting her breaths, biting the tip of her tongue to keep from turning into a blubbering idiot.

"How's it look?" he'd asked, and she'd heard the understanding in his voice: he knew what she was struggling with, why she was staring at that stupid dragon. Even now, she felt shaky and emotional as she traced her nails lightly down the reaper on Juice's forearm. The hum of the tattoo gun had long ago become a soothing sound and in the little bright shop full of tattooed and pierced artists, her man and her dad, she took a deep breath, and then another, another…

"Why don't you come outside and have a smoke break with me, darlin'," Chibs suggested, pulling her eyes away from the needle that was burying ink beneath Juice's skin. She nodded, smoothed her hand along Juice's head like she was stroking a puppy, and followed her father out onto the sidewalk.

The streets of downtown were choked up with bikes and RVs, the sidewalks crawling with tourists of all shapes and sizes: a typical scene she had quickly realized at rally. Chibs leaned back against the plate glass window of the parlor and dug his smokes out of his cut pocket, offering one to her. As always, she refused. Bad enough she might have been drowning her budding zygote baby in alcohol, she didn't want to add nicotine to the mix. "I talked to your mum this mornin'," he began without preamble. He sounded casual, because he always did, but Ava got the distinct impression that this was going to be one of those father/daughter conversations. She bit back a smile. She'd had more father/daughter conversations with Juice than her actual dad.

"I did too." She propped her boot heel against the brick wall and clasped her hands behind her back.

"I blame myself for givin' you crazy genes, but your mum's the one who don't like strangers."

She waited. She wasn't sure when he'd stop sounding like a father and start sounding like a Son sticking up for one of his brothers, so silence was best.

"I don't wanna get involved in all that woman shit," he waved a hand in a dismissive sort of gesture, tip of his cigarette smoking ", and no one said you had to be friends with Kozik's girl. We don't even live in the same state as them, luv, so it don't affect you." But didn't it though? Wasn't it her job to look after her "uncle" the same way he had looked after her? As if he'd read her thoughts, Chibs shook his head. "But don't start nothin' at Sturgis." His face softened. "Please. Just stay away from her cause she's not your business, neither is protectin' the club. Though I appreciate it." He chuckled. "Sometimes I think you love this club more than we do."

Sometimes she agreed with him on that.

"But I'm serious. If you make a fuss, next time, it won't be Juicy-boy holdin' you back."

Aggravation rippled through her at the notion that either Juice or her mom had squealed about the tackle. Their family was far too close at moments, which she supposed was what happened when you married one of your dad's friends. But deep down, she knew he was right, and it was a tad bit frightening. The club wouldn't take kindly to her interrupting their week with what they would see as "girl bullshit". She remembered what Juice said the night before, about the woman winning every time, and realized, with a sinking stone in her belly, that she could call Koz "uncle" all she wanted, but she wasn't the woman in his life anymore. And her man was inside the shop getting her name tattooed into his back…

"Oh, I have to apologize to Juice," she gasped, her hand slapping over her mouth, "Oh…" she paused to give her dad a quick hug. "Thanks."

The bell above the door jangled as she hurried back into the shop and a girl who was bent awkwardly over a chair as her shoulder was being inked glanced up out of curiosity. Juice was where she'd left him, though now she saw that his knuckles were white as he gripped the table, the pain finally starting to make him tense as the artist hovered the needle over his spine.

"You're doing great, baby," she instantly felt remorseful for her insolence the night before – to an extent – and rolled the spare stool around so she could sit by his head. She traced one of his lightning bolts with the tip of her finger. _There's always lightning. Good, bad, electric. It's pretty and terrifying and it burns until it blisters, _she mused. There'd been a time when she thought storms were bad for them, but she'd come to think that _they _were the storm, and God's lightning just chased them around so it wouldn't feel left out. _Cosmic._

He glanced up and his smile was laced with fatigue and pain. "Probably shoulda split it into three sessions instead of two.

"We'll only be another forty-five minutes or so, might as well finish it now, dude," the artist said. He swiped at his work with a paper towel that came away black and red with ink and blood.

"It's beautiful," Ava assured, thumbing across the bristles of his mohawk. Okay, so maybe she was feeling lovey-dovey after all, her smile was getting so wide it was starting to hurt. She knew that even if she were pregnant, it wasn't far enough along to be affecting her emotionally. But she'd been so clingy when she was carrying Sam, even though that might have had to do with grief instead, she hoped it was true this time too. She wanted the chance to cling to Juice and mean it this time.

_The woman wins every time._

It was true: she always won in Juice's eyes. She teased her nails down the back of his neck and resolved to let things with Koz and his girl go. Or at least, she was going to _try. _

**-O-**

"What do you mean he called you?"

Koz had set a blistering pace back to the cabin. Cassie had started to crumble on the sidewalk outside the tent, pulling in on herself, bottling things up in a way that had reminded him, alarmingly, of Ava, what with the head shakes, tightly-pressed lips and shivery words of denial. She could keep her dignity back at home, but here and now, he wasn't letting that shit fly. Their campgrounds had been deserted save for a few Sons who'd brought girls back to make use of the beds, and cabin six had been empty. It was the only safe place in Sturgis: crowded or not, the Top Cay assholes would never venture into the SOA camp.

It had been silent, the only sounds the whir of the fridge and the scrape of Cassie's boot heels as she paced – she couldn't sit still when she was anxious. So he'd started talking, because one of them had to, because this situation was rapidly reaching a point of madness he wasn't sure he could control, and he'd recapped the events just for the sake of laying it all out there. Only he'd forgotten that Cass didn't know about the phone calls.

Again, he pushed the chair opposite him out with his foot, hoping she'd sit down and really look him in the eye. He could demand that she did so, but that wouldn't bring him any sense of accomplishment. "They have your phone," he told her and watched her green eyes become saucer-wide. "They snagged it when you dropped it on the sidewalk and I haven't called to have it turned off yet 'cause it's better for us to stay available," he explained to her implied question as to 'why'. "If they can't reach us, me, they'll come find us. Like they did today." He felt like a fucking tool for letting that Sarah bitch follow him around. Cassie had told him about her, but hell, there were lots of bitches out there named Sarah, weren't there? It wasn't like he'd had his guard down.

"Jesus," she massaged her forehead again, right between her brows, with the tips of her fingers. "I dunno how to fight this shit anymore."

"They want to set up a meet with you," he said grimly. "Which I ain't gonna let happen. But based on the text and call, you were right about the money – they want to use Luc to get to it. And if that old fucker is the kid's grandfather, they can legally push for custodial rights."

The look she shot him was wounded. "They won't win, Cass, fuck no. You're an amazing mom. But they can make life hell for you. Maybe make it bad enough you give them the money."

She resumed pacing again. "That's not happening." Her arms folded defensively. "Mike didn't do shit for Luc. That's his college and emergency fund and _no one's_ touching it but my baby."

Koz agreed with her, but couldn't keep from grinding his teeth. He wasn't used to being completely helpless, much less dealing with situations like this. His life was so self-contained within the club, as were the lives of the people closest to him. But on this one, he could use some help. He understood Cassie's resolve, and her crippling fear, but unfortunately, those two sides of her weren't fitting together too well at the moment.

"Thank God Luc and Mom are in Tacoma right now," she continued. "Sissy," Koz had learned that was Virginia, Whiskey's wife ", may be a royal bitch, but she's lazy as hell. She'd never go looking for him. Luc was always more about status as a grandmother for her, really, proof that her son's seed had been sewn." She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, glanced in his direction. "I know you're thinking I'm more trouble than I'm worth right now," she said.

He knew his expression was hard. "Nah, it's just -,"

"Ava was right," she sounded completely and utterly defeated. "I brought all this trouble to your doorstep…it's all over your face."

He didn't respond. He had consoled her the night before, but it hadn't taken, obviously, and they were at the same place again. Shit was bad, he was frustrated, and he wasn't going to lie to her.

She turned, put her back to him, and braced her hands on the kitchen counter. It was yet another moment that he wished he could understand the way women thought – better than he claimed to at least. When she finally turned around, her sigh was pitiful. Her eyes lifted to his and he didn't like what he saw there. "It was never my hope that being with you would help keep me safe from these people. I thought they were out of my life and I would never use you like that. But, if you don't believe me…I mean, suspicion has its place…but if you're suspicious of me at this point, then we shouldn't be together. Not here. Not in general."

Koz felt like he'd been punched.

She reached up, wiped at her nose and her hand came away red with blood. "Oh shit." He watched, still reeling, as she turned and grappled with a paper towel, knocking the whole roll and its flimsy holder off onto the floor. Bracing the roll with her foot, she tanked a section free with one hand and pinched her nose shut with the other, blood trickling down her hand. "Jesus Christ."

Koz finally got over his shock and stood, moving to her side. "Here, let me see."

She dodged him. "I'm fine. Just stress and my BP is probably through the roof." She reached for the towels and he waved her off, again noting that she pulled back, staying clear of a proximity in which they might touch one another.

"I got it," he said gruffly. "Go take care of your nose."

When she was gone, without argument he noticed, he slammed the wooden paper towel holder back on the counter, hard enough to send the AM/FM radio tumbling off onto the floor. It switched on when it landed, and began blasting a Springsteen song. As he knelt to pick it up, the Boss added his two cents to the conversation.

"_God have mercy on the man who doubts what he's sure of…"_

"Fuck you, Bruce," he muttered, switching the radio off.

**-O-**

Juice held up the mirror in his hand and used it and the big free-standing one behind him to check out his ink. The tree had turned out better than he'd hoped. The detail was crazy-good, the trunk almost seemed three dimensional going down his spine, rough and textured. And the names looked like they'd actually been carved in wood. His family tree, that's what he was calling it. He'd spent his entire childhood in the Queens foster care system and he had no idea what kind of biological family tree he had, so he'd made his own, with his own family.

"What's the word, man?" the artist, Jesse, wanted to know, hands on his lean hips.

"It's sick, dude," he moved the mirror to his other shoulder, grinning. "Looks amazing."

Ava was still sitting on her stool, Chibs standing behind her. She had that weird, watery, emotional smile on her face again and he knew this was a big deal for her. Men let her down, didn't take care of her emotions the way they were supposed to. Men didn't ink her name, and her baby's name, into their skin. But he did, and she was freaking out about it a little bit. Which was what he'd hoped for.

"A'ight, bro, go sit back down and I'll clean ya up," Jesse said and he returned to his seat, this time sitting up on the table instead of lying on it as he had for the past two hours.

Ava put her hand on his knee immediately. She leaned in close enough that he knew, if her dad wasn't standing behind her, she would have laid one on him in a major way. They were comfortable being "them" around her parents, but only to a point. "It looks so good," she said, and brushed a quick kiss across his lips. He felt the very tip of her tongue, and her smile when she leaned back promised a whole different show of gratitude later.

"Okay, kids," Chibs said. He was getting restless. "Let's go get somethin' to eat."

Ava rolled her eyes and it made Juice grin. So much for leaving Sam at home – sometimes the Scot was very much like having a kid along.

**-O-**

Cassie dabbed at her nose again with a fresh tissue, but already knew it would pull away clean. Her nose had stopped bleeding a good ten minutes earlier, but she was still sitting on the closed toilet lid, staring at the cluster of towels hung up on the wall across from her, wishing this entire week was just a bad dream.

A knock issued softly from the door. "Cass. You okay?"

_Not on your life. _But that wasn't the point. She stood and unlocked the door, cracked it. "I'm okay."

Koz had his shoulder propped against the wall, hands in his jeans pockets. He looked tired, the lines around his eyes more prominent than usual. His hair looked like he'd run his hand through it a half a hundred times. But he was still gorgeous – still made her heart do a little flip. And she wanted to cry looking at him, knowing that this gorgeous, sexy man was now a victim of the poor choices of her past life. Everyone had bailed on her – her best friend, her husband, even her mother up until the divorce. And now Koz would, because she was just too much trouble. Telling him how much she loved him would only make it more difficult, so she held her tongue.

"Come out here," his voice was much more gentle than before. "And let's get a few things straight."

She followed him the dozen steps from the bathroom door back to the kitchen. He sat down in the chair he'd been in before and spread a hand across the table, staring at her until she wanted to squirm.

"Where are we at?" he asked. "And I don't mean those Top Cay pussies. Fuck them. But when your first thought is that we don't need to be together, I wanna know where your head is. Do you _want_ to be together?"

She felt her throat constrict. "I've caused you all this grief and -,"

"That's not what I asked," he interrupted, firmly but patiently. "Be selfish for a sec. Am I wasting my time, or do you wanna be here?"

She blinked, hard. "I do wanna be here. With you. I love you, Zeke, but -,"

"No buts. This is just a rough patch, but that's all it is. If I get you at your best, then I see you through the worst. Expecting anything different would be bullshit."

Her eyes started to burn.

"What's going on with Deacon and these other assholes," he shook his head ", trust me, sweetheart, I've dealt with bigger and badder shit than that. This is nothing."

"But what if it's not?"

"You're not an unfit mom, Cass, and no judge would ever see it that way. They're not gonna take your kid." But she knew that the Sons created a whole new factor in her battle, and he knew it too, inclining his head. "If me bein' what I am throws a wrench in things…the outlaw boyfriend…shit, I'd …I'd walk away before I let that be a problem."

_I foresee the loss of a son. _She bit down on the inside of her cheek, praying to keep her composure. "That easily, hmm?"

He leaned back in his chair. "Who said anything about easy? Probably be the hardest thing I've ever had to do."

She glanced down at her toes. "Janine took us to see a psychic today." She hesitated, feeling his eyes on her, but finally admitted what was bothering her. "I pulled the Death card along with three other equally shitty tarots. Mama – that was her name – read my palm and said she foresaw the 'loss of a son'." She sucked in a deep breath, meeting his eyes again. "I thought she meant my literal son at first. But now…what if she saw you walking away? Maybe she saw your cut and that you were a Son…"

"Or maybe the bitch is a complete fraud who should be run outta town on a rail for making her living fuckin' with gullible tourists," he fired back. He raked his fingers through his spiked hair and blew out a breath, then he patted his leg. "Come 'ere."

She waited a second, until he motioned with his head, and then she closed the distance between them. The moment she'd settled into his lap, she felt some of the tension leave her body, replaced instead with an overwhelming fatigue. She needed the contact, the comfort, to be this close to him. One of her arms slid around his neck and she settled her other hand over his chest, the muscles hard beneath her fingers. He felt warm and strong and invincible. She could have fallen asleep.

"I don't think I'm ever gonna apologize enough," she said in a near whisper.

He squeezed her hip. "Listen to me. I protect, I fight, for what's mine, Cassandra," his eyes narrowed into blue slits, his voice becoming iron-hard and serious. "You…and Lucas…" the possession was pouring off him in waves, she could feel the power behind his words, tears welling up behind her eyes when he touched her face, "mine."

**-O-**

Ava spent the whole rest of the afternoon with her dad and Juice. She bought two belts at a leatherworks store, one for herself and one for her mom. They found a child's t-shirt Sam would have to grow into, two shot glasses, and the requisite Sturgis shirts for themselves to mark their trip. She fawned over a pair of soft, sand-colored knee-high boots until she had to be pulled from the store. Chibs joined them a half hour later with the boots and refused the money she tried to give him.

They met up with Opie, Bobby, Tig, Jax and Tara for lunch and watched a stunt cyclist nearly kill himself twice inside the wooden walls of his arena.

Lightning was flickering in the distance when they slopped across the muddy drive to their cabin that evening. The plan was for the Old Ladies to produce one massive barbecue dinner and smoke was already curling up from the grills. When she pushed through the door to cabin number six, juggling her shopping bags, she saw that Koz and Cassie were at the folding table playing cards.

Her initial reaction was a sour expression, but she caught herself and wiped it away, thinking about the silent promise she'd made in the tattoo shop earlier. She could be nice, she really could. Even if she was scared for her club, even if she worried about Koz, she could do this. Better women than her had done so before her.

"Baby, will you put the bags in the room?" she asked Juice, handing over her boots and belts. He gave her a doubtful look. "Still behaving," she promised, and waited until he'd headed off before she approached the table.

Cassie looked exhausted, and though dry, her eyes were red-rimmed. She was a woman who was up against it and out of options.

Like she had been.

Like Maggie had been.

SAMCRO probably should have excommunicated Chibs for bringing James O'Phelan's wrath down upon all of them, but they hadn't.

_You don't have to be friends, _she reminded herself, _just quit being a bitch!_

"Whatcha playing?"

Koz smirked. "Go Fish." He glanced up as Juice dropped one of her bags and cursed as he fumbled it back into his arms. "You leave anything for the rest of us to buy?"

Juice gave up and kicked the bag across the room through the open bedroom door. "I told her this had better all fit in the truck," he complained, lugging the rest of the purchases in to dump on the bed. Ava bit back a smile, only feeling a little bad that he was having so much trouble.

She hadn't expected Cassie to speak, and when she did, Ava whipped her head around. "You could always mail it home to yourself. UPS or flat rate boxes from the postal service. You can even send stuff via Greyhound bus lines, but they aren't the most careful of handlers…" she trailed off and turned her tired, red eyes up to Ava, almost as if she couldn't believe she'd just blurted all that out. She quickly glanced back to her hand of cards and Ava didn't miss the little tic in Koz's jaw – he was pissed that his woman felt the need to tiptoe around her.

Ava took a deep breath. _The woman always wins. _She thought about Juice leaning over her in the Salt Lake clubhouse hall, protecting her from Roman. She did not want to become a Roman who Koz wanted to fend off. "I wouldn't even have thought of that," she hoped her voice didn't sound fake. "Thanks."

She didn't get a response…at first. But then Cassie's mouth puckered in what might have been considered an almost smile. "You're welcome."

Juice emerged from the bedroom, giving her a raised eyebrow look. She scowled at him. _I'm behaving. _But he didn't comment, instead held up his phone. "Yo, Koz. Jax wants to see us in five."

The Tacoma SAA sighed and nodded, pushing up from the table. "'Kay."

Ava didn't miss the way both men were looking at her, and at Cassie, the two of them trying to communicate some kind of silent dialogue about possible cat fights in their absence. Juice, clearly not understanding Koz's little nods, was frowning like an idiot.

"The answer is 'no'," she said in exasperation. "We will not in fact claw each other to shreds in your absence."

Juice looked a bit glum – sad as ever that he still hadn't mastered the art of subtlety. But Koz aimed a finger at her. "I'm holding you to that." He dropped a kiss on Cassie's head. "We'll be back in a few."

She offered a weak smile. "Sure thing."

Juice still looked grumpy as he walked past. Ava grabbed a light fistful of the front of his shirt and gave him an obnoxious, smacking kiss. Which made him do his little nose wrinkle thing…"Nuh-uh, get outta here," she swatted him away, determined not to get caught up in some kind of high school make out session. "I'll see you in a bit."

When the boys were gone, Cassie slowly lowered her cards and cast Ava a wary, sideways look from the corners of her eyes. "You wanna play?"

She moved to the chair Koz had vacated. "Fair warning, I suck at cards. Juice refuses to teach me – we play nothing but strip Indian poker."

That earned her another not-quite-smile. "I think we can handle Go Fish."

**-O-**

Jax was bedded down in cabin one, which seemed like the obvious choice for the national president. When Koz and Juice reached the porch, the crowd had already gathered: the Prez was leaning back against the rail, smoking, and the rest of SAMCRO was standing or seated in camp chairs. Koz noted quickly that he was the only Tacoma member present.

"Guys," Jax greeted with a little nod as they took up posts on the middle step. "Hear you got drama brewin' a few cabins down." It wasn't a question.

Koz felt every pair of eyes latch onto him and he settled his resolve. "You could say that…"

**-O-**

As she stacked the playing cards into two tidy decks, Cassie found herself marveling at the fact that she'd just sat through a whole game with Ava without a terse word between them. She could hear the girl behind her, rustling through the bags of foodstuffs on the counter. But if she was honest, she wouldn't have even noticed any ugly looks or snide comments – Isaac and Deacon Purcell were cycling through her mind in a continuous loop, whispering all the ways they could take her son from her.

"Don't tell me he at all the candy bars," Ava said. "I swear, he ought to have diabetes!"

"I think I saw some…" her voice faltered when one of her cards slipped from the pile and fluttered slowly to the floor. Ava turned around at her sudden lapse in speech and they both watched the card land face up. The ace of spades. A death card.

When she glanced up, breath quickening, Ava was staring at her with wide eyes. Cassie shook her head and bent to retrieve the card, snatching it up. "This is ridiculous. Ludicrous! I'm not a suspicious, superstitious person. That damn psychic's got my head all turned around."

She forced the cards back in the box and slapped it down on the counter, hands shaking.

"She got to me a little too," Ava admitted in a reluctant voice. "Enough bad shit happens in your life, omens start hitting you a little harder."

Cassie glanced over and thought the girl might be offering a semi-supportive smile.

There was a knock at the door that prevented any further exploration of Ava's cryptic statement. Tara was in the threshold. "Dinner time, girls," she announced cautiously, as if she wasn't sure whether it was okay for the two of them to be alone together. "Cassie, you can go see Suell. Ava, you're with me."

**-O-**

"She never lied to me, bro," Koz assured Jax. "Even when it woulda been easier. Trust me, neither one of us was expecting this shit."

"You knew your Old Lady's ex is in a piss-ant crew?" Opie asked.

He had expected the Spanish Inquisition, but it still tested his patience. "Her ex is dead, and yeah, I knew. But the brother-in-law, the asshole who's been threatening her…that's admittedly a new twist. Cassie had no idea they might try to pull this."

Tig was propped against one of the porch support beams, and coughed a humorless laugh, sneering. "She had your fuckin' number, man. She needed saving from these assholes and when an outlaw stumbled into her life, she thought she'd get you to do her dirty work."

"Shut up, asshole." Koz glared at him, truly hating the other SAA in the moment. If not for his meddling, the Top Cays might never have seen Cassie – Sturgis was overloaded with people, and a person would have to be in a spotlight somewhere, say, _mud wrestling_, to garner any attention. Tig and Mayor's little pissing contest was having some serious fucking repercussions.

"Make me, fuckhead."

"Everyone shut up," Jax said, sounding weary. "All I wanna know is if this threat is legitimate. What the fuck do they want and how can we minimize club exposure when it's dealt with?"

"They want her kid."

Bobby perked up in his camp chair. "Excuse me? What?"

"You heard me. They're threatening her son." He made a snap decision not to mention the money: no sense making Cassie's situation look worse than it was in front of an unsympathetic audience. "Fuckers wanted nothing to do with the kid till her ex died, and now all of a sudden, I dunno, maybe they think he's a tie to his dead daddy or something. But bottom line, they're not getting near Lucas. And that burden's on me. I promised Cass that she and her kid would be safe -,"

"And we all know how well you do that," Tig quipped.

He'd expected it, really he had, but it was pushing his buttons anyway. "Really? You wanna go? 'Cause I'm running real fuckin' low on patience right now -,"

"Tig!" Jax snapped. "Shut it." The look he shot Koz wasn't much friendlier. "The club's not a target?"

"Nope."

"I don't believe him," Tig said. "I think he and his bitch painted a big goddamn bullseye on all of us." No one bothered to tell him to shut up: it obviously wasn't doing any good.

"Well," Bobby said. "Unlike Tigger, I'm not intent on makin' this personal. And I don't see any second rate crew of wannabes takin' a pass at one-upping a legitimate MC, regardless of how stupid they are."

"They jumped Carter," Ope countered. "A full patch holder, colors flying, Juice's Old Lady and your woman in broad daylight in the middle of the rally. That's bold, brother. I don't completely buy the motive."

Jax sighed and scratched at his goatee, frowning in thought. "You gotta admit the means seem excessive, considering the end. Look at what happened to Abel," there were nods all around ", if it was just about the kid, why not take her to court and sue for custody and visitation? Why all the scare tactic bullshit? Nah," he shook his head ", you fuck with someone's kid, you're serious."

It was considered treachery to lie to your club brothers: patches could be stripped, tats taken to the knife. So with a heavy sigh, and a silent apology to his woman, Koz told them what he knew about the money, hoping they'd see it his way. Juice remained silent throughout, staring at the toes of his boots, clearly not wanting to be more involved than his residence in cabin six already made him. And Koz guessed he couldn't blame the kid: in the same place, he'd be weighing the safety of his family given the threat, and deciding to keep out of the fray.

When he was done, Jax held up a hand to keep Tig silent, though the SAA was grumbling to himself. "This is not SAMCRO's problem," he said levelly. "And if I trust you to handle it, it won't become the club's problem, we clear?"

"Crystal."

He left the porch alone, Redwood staying behind, Koz could hear their voices rising as he crunched across the gravel on the way back to his cabin. The worst part of it all was that he couldn't blame Jax, or any of them. This was his personal problem, his Old Lady's baggage…it just sucked to feel like he was on the opposite side of the fence as his brothers.

Footsteps caught up with him halfway back down the drive and he turned to see Mayday coming after him, his huge frame nearly blotting out the retreating sun. It took him a moment to see that RJ was with the big Nomad. "S'up?"

Mayday cracked a wide, toothy grin. "Last I checked, I wasn't SAMCRO."

RJ made a show of examining the Tacoma patch on the front of his cut. "Well fuck me, look at that, I'm not either." Koz felt a smile tugging at his lips. "Come on, bro, you think we were gonna let you go off and handle this alone?"

"Thanks, guys." And he meant it, truly. Especially as his phone chirped to alert him of a text message. "This'll be them," he said as he fished it from his pocket. "Here goes."

**-O-**

"So then she told me that he was married! Can you believe that?"

"Hmm," Cassie murmured without a clue as to what Suellen had been yammering about for the past ten minutes. She stripped the last section of husk from the ear of corn she was holding and then began picking the little strings of silk from amongst the kernels. When she glanced up and saw Koz walking toward her, her heart skipped a grateful beat. She knew, without being told, why he'd been summoned to talk to the mother charter president, and it sure hadn't been a social call.

"Where are you going?" Suell demanded when she stood at Koz's beckoning.

"I need to steal her a minute," he said, giving the redhead a dark look.

The Rogue River Old Lady was oblivious. "Well don't steal her for long, this corn won't shuck itself."

Cassie didn't respond as she let Koz lead her out from under the pavilion – their current situation trumped anything else. She twined her fingers through his as they walked, noticing Suzy standing a few yards off, hands clasped behind his back in an expectant stance. "You're going to meet with them, aren't you?" asked, though she already knew and dreaded the answer he'd give her.

Koz came to a halt and drew her around to stand in front of him, callused hands gentle on her forearms. He didn't answer and she watched his eyes skip across her face, felt his thumbs brushing over the insides of her wrists.

"You're not going _alone,_ Kozik?" Panic started willing up inside her, a desperate, guilty, terrible sense that she was about to watch her man ride off to his doom. And it was all her fault.

"You'll be fine," he said. "Suzy'll be your shadow."

She nodded, numb, knowing that they wouldn't be discussing his safety at all. _Don't go! _She wanted to scream, _we'll figure something else out. _But there was no way to stop Deacon unless someone actually stopped him. She stared fixedly at the patches on the front of his cut, taking a few calming breaths and trying to remind herself that Koz was choosing to do this. _The best and the worst _he'd said. He put himself at risk all the time for the club…but this was for her, for Luc, her mother even…it wasn't club business. If her personal shit got him hurt…or worse…she wasn't sure she could live with that.

She found his eyes with her own, committed their exact shade of blue to memory. "Don't be too long," she said in a thick voice ", we've got a lot of food, but this is a big crowd, and…" she couldn't finish.

He twitched a grin. "Yes, ma'am." His knuckle kicked up her chin and his lips were warm and strong when he kissed her. Then he slipped away with a nod for Suzy.

Cassie watched him go, hugging herself, praying like crazy.

**-O-**

Juice was shrugging into a sweatshirt as he clomped down cabin six's steps, one for Ava in his hands – she always waited until her teeth were chattering and then couldn't warm up, had so little body fat that she'd be freezing and have a case of the sniffles – when he saw Koz headed toward him. The blonde biker had a deadly serious look about him and Juice wondered for a moment if his silence at Jax's impromptu meeting had seemed like an insult. He was already wincing as he drew up to a halt in front of the Tacoma SAA. "What's up?" he asked, pushing his hood back off his head.

"I got the text from the Top Cays," he said, voice grim. "Eight p.m. at Loud American."

"Wow, well, um…" Jax had said that he could offer his resources, but was in no way to physically participate in the handling of Koz's problem.

"I dunno what's waitin' on me, how ballsy these guys are," Koz hesitated, ran a hand through his hair. "I need to ask you a favor."

Juice heard a ghost's voice in his head, was suddenly back in the garage at T-M, staring at Hap and shaking his head. _"That girl can't be alone, I just won't let her be." _No, no, no, no, this was not happening to him again. No way! He loved Ava, adored her, always had, really…but that wasn't the point! He was not dealing with that situation again. _Leave me your bike, a CD, any goddamn thing, but not your Old Lady! _"Dude -,"

Koz made a face. "This ain't _that_ kinda favor."

"Oh."

There was a long, pregnant pause in which Juice first breathed a sigh of relief, and then started trying to muddle out what he was really after. Koz solved the mystery for him. "If I somehow get blindsided…find her a way home to Tacoma that ain't on the back of a bike." He waited for Juice's nod, clapped him on the shoulder and walked off.

**TBC**

Disclaimer: song mentioned was "Brilliant Disguise" by Bruce Springsteen. No copyright infringement intended.


	9. Black Hills Reckoning part I

**A few quick things: **One, just a reminder as Season 4 gets started that I jumped ship from canon a long time ago and that still holds seeing as how we're so far in the future. Abel's little brother here is named after his grandfather for a reason, that will eventually become clear, didn't want to taint Tommy's name and didn't want this little monster to be confused with Jax and Tara's son on the show.

Two; the show website has finally decided to spell Juice's name as "Juan Carlos". Great. Thanks for that, FX. But for the sake of story continuity, we're gonna stick with the original spelling. He's still "Jean Carlos" here.

Okay, that's it for now. Thank you, reviewers!

…

**9. Black Hills Reckoning **

**Part I**

Cassie kept fumbling the ears of corn, not just her hands, but her whole body shaking thanks to nerves. She was numb now. Before, as she'd watched RJ and Mayday follow Koz out of camp, her stomach had come loose from its moorings and dropped all the way to her feet, her lungs grabbing up tight. Worry had hung like a yoke around her shoulders, causing a physical ache that went bone-deep. But now, her body was fed up with the drama and all she could feel was the shaking, watched her fingers fumble and slip again and again as she tore strips of husk from the corn. She was thankful for the monotony: grab and rip, grab and rip, grab and…

A stubborn strip of husk wouldn't turn loose and when she gave a sharp tug, the whole ear was launched from her hands, propelling across the pavilion where it hit the back of a Son's cut with a loud _smack. _"Oh shit," she murmured as she saw that his bottom rocker hailed him from California. And that he had crazy, black, curly hair. "_Shit_!"

She was walking toward Tig when he turned around and she knew her face was reminiscent of Bambi's mother looking down the barrel of a shotgun.

"The fuck did you throw at me?" he demanded, taking an aggressive step toward her. Cassie halted, watching as he spotted the offending missile and bent to pick it up. He glared at the corn and then at her. If Koz's baby-blues were dreamy, this guy's were terrifying.

She sighed. "I, um…that was an accident." She took two careful steps toward him, hand reaching for the corn. "It just slipped."

The man standing beside Tig turned around – a short, thick-set Redwood member with long, kinky, grey-streaked dark hair – and chuckled. "Ain't that your line, Tigger?"

"Shut up, Bobby," Tig fired back, but his mean, intense gaze never left Cassie as she closed the distance between them and attempted to retake the ear of corn. He let her hand hang empty, waiting.

"Oh, come on, Tig," Bobby said. "Your beef with Kozik ain't on her, man. Give the corn back."

She could tell though, the way those evil blue eyes narrowed, that his irritation wasn't just about Koz. Word of the Top Cays had obviously spread through camp. "Some bitches are more trouble than they're worth," he snarled. "Figures that'd be the type the Ken-doll-lookin' asshole went for."

If nothing else, this trip was proving to her that she was no longer the doormat who'd let Mike Purcell slap her around. She had a limit now, and this curly-haired jackass had just reached hers. She bowed up, anger flushing the embarrassment from her system. "If it's got tits or tires, it's gonna cause you grief. Isn't that how the saying goes?"

Bobby laughed. "Let it go. Give her back the goddamn corn."

The Charming SAA slammed the ear into her waiting palm with more force than was necessary. "Next time," he warned ", I'll hit back."

"Wouldn't be the first time," she said with a sigh, taking her offensive vegetable and doing an about-face.

Suzy was behind her, had obviously seen the confrontation and decided to come to her rescue. She stepped around him and made it halfway back to the picnic table before the shakes returned full force. The prospect was following her and she jammed the corn at him. "Here. Tell Suell I've got a migraine or something. Anything. Please. I gotta get out of here."

**-O-**

The Loud American Roadhouse was situated on one of the coveted retail spots along Main Street, and like every other bar along the strip, it was full to bursting. Koz weighed the negative and the positive: the negative being handcuffs, the positive being the avoidance of a knife between his shoulder blades.

The three Sons had left their cuts back at camp, all instead wore soft colors: various SOA t-shirts. Koz's was white with only the M-16 scythe to designate him as an outlaw, a little more low profile he thought. And it thankfully didn't draw the attention of the bouncer at the door, though Mayday's massive size had the guy gawking, so t-shirts were the last things on his radar.

"Where are these assholes gonna be?" RJ had to yell above the din of a hundred voices and the live band.

Koz shook his head. It was going to be a hunting trip: the bar was packed shoulder-to-shoulder and aside from the old man and the bimbo, he had no idea what any of the fuckers looked like. The going was slow as they threaded their way through the sea of drinking, dancing bar patrons. Mayday could have cleared a path for them, but Koz felt better with the big Nomad at his back, and truthfully, he wanted his face to be the first one any of the Top Cays spotted. He wasn't sending a brother to do his dirty work – though he was more than grateful to have them as backup. His request to Juice had been overkill, but not by much. Pussy clubs were just that – pussy – and it was always spooked dumbasses who made terrible decisions. Decisions, like, say, bumping off the SAA of a major outlaw MC.

He saw the girl first. Sarah. She was standing against a support pillar beneath a huge aluminum Budweiser sign, arms crossed under her fake tits, looking like chocolate-dipped sin in all brown with her shaggy blonde hair around her shoulders. She shoved away from the wall without a word at Koz's nod and led them deeper into the bar, to a table against the wall.

Seven Top Cays awaited them, all of them wearing a shirt or hoodie with their wannabe logo emblazoned across the front. All were standing, hands on the backs of chairs, postured and aggressive in an obvious way that, if left unchecked, would attract the attention of the bartenders and bouncers. The nearest one stepped forward and there was a certain familiarity about his face: the jaw and cheekbones, the dark hair and eyes. He reminded him of the few pictures he'd seen of Cassie's ex, Mike. Deacon.

"Knew the bitch wouldn't show," he sneered.

He was one of those guys who was so posed, so cliché in his play at being tough, that he wasn't a legitimate threat at all. Koz could see why a woman would be, why Cassie had been, intimidated – and she had the past experience to drive home the point – but Deacon was laughable.

"You expected her to?" he had to raise his voice to be heard, but kept his tone calm. "How fucking stupid are you?"

As Koz had predicted, the Top Cay pressed his lips together in a harsh frown, his shoulders jumping up, posture becoming defensive. "She got you all twisted up?" he asked. "Got you believin' her bullshit story? That lying cunt -,"

As Koz moved forward, a hand landed on his shoulder, restraining him. But it wasn't RJ who cautioned him. A voice as smooth and hard-edged as glass cut through the din of the bar. "When will you ever learn to shut your pie-hole, Deacon?" It was the old man, harsh-looking, his jaw clenched tight in annoyance. He stepped around Koz, his hand dropping off his shoulder, and faced his son with a contemptuous glare.

_Family drama. _Koz allowed himself an internal chuckle. If father and son were feuding, chances were their case against Cassie was about as sturdy as a folding chair. He glanced back and saw his brothers wearing very blank expressions: they were just as surprised at the turn of events.

Whiskey turned around and Koz had a difficult time reconciling him as little Luc's grandfather. It was a bit of a mental slap. The old man made a pleasant enough face, but didn't really smile, motioning to the table. "Let's sit."

Koz lingered a moment with his hand on the back of the chair, watching as the rest of the Top Cays stepped off to the side. Mayday and RJ stood their ground and weren't challenged. When Sarah moved beside the old man and sat at his elbow, making a point to stare across the bar and not at any of the men, Koz finally sat.

As SAA, he'd been involved in innumerable sitdowns with club allies and enemies alike, usually rival clubs or organizations, potential partners like the One-Niners or Mayans. This felt nothing like any of those. The Top Cays loitering around, specifically Deacon, gave no signs of understanding that this was to be a one-on-one meeting to which they were only spectators and guards. They were edgy. All of them.

Across the table, Whiskey folded his long-fingered hands over top of one another on the table, ignoring Sarah's light touch on his shoulder. The bitch was obviously "his" for the day, and neither of them seemed to care much. The Top Cay patriarch's mouth puckered, turning everything he said into a smooth, cruel lie. "I'm sorry Cassie felt like she had to stay away tonight." Koz said nothing. "I guess things got off on the wrong foot."

"Which time?" Koz nodded toward Deacon, "when that fuckhead and the rest of your crew started shit outside a tattoo parlor? With patched members _and_ two Old Ladies, one of which got roughed up." He watched Whiskey shoot his son a glance. "Yeah, every last one of 'em is goddamn lucky to still be breathin'. _Or_, was it when he sent Miss Holly Hand-around to do his dirty work? When he was threatening an innocent kid and his grandma? Or maybe it was your warm and fuzzy greeting this afternoon, huh? Yeah, I'd say it was the wrong fuckin' foot."

"Well, that one's always been real skittish around me and mine."

Koz glanced between father and son and was hit with the distinct impression that the two of them were operating out of very different playbooks – a mistake even a couple of SOA prospects wouldn't have made. It bolstered his confidence: Whiskey was clearly at least feigning respect for the real outlaws. While Deacon was, well…

Koz forced a humorless laugh. "Skittish with good reason, from what I've heard. Look, I ain't really interested in the Purcell Family Chronicles. I wasn't around for all the hurt _you and yours _laid on Cass and her son the first time around. But I'm here now and I can guarantee you that shit won't happen again."

The old man sat back in his chair and spared his plaything the tiniest of looks. "Leave us." Sarah stood with as much grace as was possible for a wannabe club passaround and melted into the crowd. Then he turned back to Koz, his smooth self-assuredness a little shaky now. "Lemme clear up the confusion -,"

"Oh, there's no confusion. You and your assholes threatened my girl, my _Old Lady_, and therefore my club. You wanted to start a beef with the Sons. Nah, I'm up to speed on that part."

"Now, now, hold on a sec," the composure slipped a little more, but in a subtle way. Doubtless the rest of the Top Cays couldn't see it. "My club has no problem with the Sons."

Koz raised his eyebrows, amused.

"This is just a misunderstanding. When I…went away, Michael told me he'd come into a big payday. Last I knew, he still had the cash. But when I got out, the money was gone. And I think your…_Old Lady_…knows something about that."

The money was a hurdle, that Koz knew. He knew that his own President wouldn't be easily talked out of abandoning a long-awaited payoff. But he had to separate the cash from the people he cared about. "How does the kid play into this then? Huh? You gonna use him to get to your stash?"

"Do you have children?"

_Is this a trick question? _"No."

"Then you can't possibly understand losing one. Michael…" the old man tipped his head back, gaze getting lost in the middle distance somewhere as he said the name with complete reverence. "Was my favorite son." Koz didn't miss the way the _not_-favorite son twitched. He made a mental note of the slight, amused. "Smart, tough, cunning…"

"A complete prick is what I heard," Koz said. "But hey, cunning works too."

Whiskey chuckled to cover his aggravated sneer. "I lost my son. And I took solace in the fact that he still lives on. In Lucas."

Inwardly, Koz cringed at the sound of the kid's name rolling off the old fucker's tongue. It was perverse almost. But he remained silent, managing to find a small comfort in the knowledge that abusive asshole though he was, the eldest Purcell wouldn't harm the offspring of his favored son.

"So you can understand," Whiskey went on ", my disappointment to find out his mother had moved him away. To another state. She never even allowed me to lay eyes on my grandson." Which, in different circumstances, might have seemed cruel. The few grandmothers Koz knew would claw a man to death to get to their grandbabies. But here…he didn't have a shred of sympathy. "Since she opted to send her proxy, you'll have to let Cassandra know that Sissy and I will be petitioning the court for grandparents' rights."

_Fuck. _Boots shifted loudly on the floor behind his chair: Mayday. This was what Cassie had been fearing. Him too, if he admitted it. Cali was a front runner when it came to cases of grandparents suing for custody and visitation – if taken to court, there was a good damn chance Luc would be exposed to these people. He leaned in closer, his elbows on the table in what he knew was a threatening gesture. "I _understand_ that at almost six years old, Luc doesn't know just what an asshole his old man was, that his mother did him a favor getting him away from you fuckin' people. But he will someday. And as for you never seein' the kid, why don't you ask your second-place son: Cass has a bit of a picture fetish, always snappin' 'em, drives me crazy but hey, what are ya gonna do? I'm sure her phone is full of pictures of her kid. Just like I'm sure those pictures," he paused so there'd be no mistaking his meaning ", are the closest you'll ever get to seein' him."

He braced both hands on the table and Koz saw his knuckles turn white, heard the slow inhale that signaled the slow demise of his patience. He had a feeling he was about to witness the Purcell temper in person.

Deacon beat his father to the punch. He rushed forward a step and produced a cell phone – not Cassie's – from his pocket, slapping it down on the table. "This is bullshit," he seethed through gritted teeth. "You don't seem to understand how serious we are," he said to Koz, rapping his knuckles on the table beside the phone. "Lemme open your eyes, asshole."

Kozik glared at him, just long enough to prove that he wasn't taking orders, and then glanced down at the phone's display. His heart stuttered a moment, chest tightening. He didn't get scared, wasn't rattled easily, but for a moment, he thought he might be terrified. He was staring at a picture of Luc and his best friend Braxton from down the street, the boys sitting on a bench in what he recognized as the local park, Brax's grandmother beside them. "What the fuck is this?"

Deacon smiled darkly. "I knew the bitch wouldn't take the situation seriously. Tell Cass-pur this is a little visual aid."

A hand landed on his shoulder and he realized it was RJ, and that his hands had cracked into tight, quivering fists. "Bro," his friend said quietly. "Check the kid's leg."

Not quite understanding, Koz glanced at the cell picture again, and realized what he'd missed in his adrenaline-charged moment of fury. In the photo, Luc was wearing a cast on his leg. A cast he'd had taken off just two days before he and Cass had departed for Sturgis. The snapshot was old – it hadn't been taken within the past week and sent to Deacon's phone. So whoever their recon guy was, he wasn't in Tacoma at the moment.

"Huh," Koz said, feeling his pulse slow again. "When did you take this? A month ago?"

Deacon took a half a step back, lips pressing together.

He glanced at the old man. "That money? Your boy here's obviously been thinkin' about it awhile. Long enough to have had someone take this picture before this week. Which means," he looked to the son again ", that you don't have eyes on Luc now." He smirked. "Try to be credible in your threats next time, asshole."

"Deacon," Whiskey said, tone icy. "Is this true?"

"Pop, I-,"

"Oh, and another thing." Koz felt his cockiness returning, confident in the direction this was now heading. "Cassie knows that money ain't legit. She also knows Mike never meant to up and die before he got a chance to withdraw it from the kid's account. She thinks someone," a pointed look toward Deacon ", had his own brother bumped off so he could get to the cash. Only it wasn't in Mike's name. Enter this little problem we're having here."

"Deacon, _sit_."

Koz felt a smile tugging at his lips. "Look, you've obviously got some family shit to work out…"

Whiskey's face had become a hard, sharp, contorted mask of pure rage. The news of the possible fratricide had obviously been a shock to him. "I'll handle my 'family shit'," he hissed. "But my money -,"

"Will be considered a damages payoff for ruining my goddamn week with my club and Old Lady," Koz cut him off. "I so much as see any of your faces the rest of the week, and the brass will be up your ass so far you'll be choking on their gun belts."

Whiskey blinked. The tiniest acquiescence. Unlike his dumbass son, he knew when a bigger, badder, much more threatening club stood to ruin his entire life, and wasn't about to pit his forces against those of the Sons. He frowned though. "What about my grandson?"

Koz smirked. "Take your case to court. I guarantee the judge'll laugh it out of the room. Ex-con suing for custody? Fuckin' hilarious."

**-O-**

The tub of potato salad was so large, full of so many chunks of potatoes, that Ava was having trouble stirring in the mayo. Which she did with a bit of a face because she wasn't a fan of the barbecue staple side dish. At the table next to her, Tara was adding spices to the pasta salad, taste testing every so often.

"How've you been feeling?" the doc asked, stealing the pepper from Ava's cache of seasonings.

"Let's see: I'm exhausted, sleepless, my feet hurt, back, legs, everything hurts. So I'd say I've got a bad case of being on vacation."

Tara chuckled. "No mother's intuition that you're pregnant?"

"I didn't have any of that with Sam," she admitted. "Some women say they just 'know', yeah, me, not so much."

"Anything that would make you worry? Fever? Anything seem out of the ordinary?"

It was sweet, it really was, the doctor checking to make sure she was on the right path to getting knocked up. But Ava laughed. "I've been swigging beer and mud wrestling. Think it's a little late to start worrying." She shook her head. "And with this whole Koz situation, things haven't exactly been_ romantic_." When she glanced over, she saw Tara's suddenly tight expression. Ava sighed. Her distrustful nature had a way of putting her at odds with the people around her, and she didn't want to do that here. "I'm not saying it's anyone's fault, I'm even trying to have an open mind about Cass -,"

"No," Tara interrupted. "Look."

A Son was walking toward them with long, purposeful strides. Ava locked eyes with him the moment she looked at his face because he'd been staring at her. In the hallway of the Salt Lake clubhouse, from her vantage point tucked up against Juice, Roman's nose had only looked a little crooked. But now, with the setting sun bathing his features in a warm, unforgiving glow, she saw that it wasn't crooked, but a ruin of smashed cartilage and busted veins. He'd had one of those little feminine, slips of a nose before. For a guy named "Roman" it was pretty ironic – had he actually had a big, roman nose, the break wouldn't have been so detrimental to the look he cultivated with hair gel and carefully kept sideburns. The break hadn't added character or given him any roguish charm; the bulbous nightmare of his nose was terrible. And she figured fixating on it wasn't going to help the situation he was bringing to their table.

"Isn't that the guy -," Tara started.

"Yeah," she said through her teeth, standing up a little straighter, tightening her grip on the wooden spoon in her hand.

Roman smirked as he came to a halt in front of her – it was clear he had no intention of so much as glancing Tara's way. He was here for her, and his fucked up nose. "Hey, sugar," he drawled. She didn't miss the way his hands flexed as his eyes raked her over. "You wander off and lose your attack dog?"

She had a very tight rope to walk here: between courtesy for a patched member, and her own sense of self-preservation. Combine that with her desire to keep Juice out of the fray, and all she could say was ", dinner will be ready in a few and then we'll call you guys over," inwardly cringing at her rote politeness.

"You can keep your fuckin' dinner," he came a step closer and Ava saw how bloodshot his eyes were. His face twitched. Sweat misted his upper lip. He was tweaking, big time, and logic wasn't going to do anyone much good here she realized with a sinking feeling. "I want my nose back, you goddamn cock tease."

Had Juice been beside her, he would have already swelled up like a toad, arms in the air, hyped up and ready to defend her honor. There was a wolf in him, deep down, hard to lure out, definitely there, but it had always seemed to react more strongly to her, to her scorn and the rage she'd inspired in him. He may have butchered Hap's killer with a knife, may have wrecked Roman's face one upon a time, but that had been a frustrated, wounded man. Happy, well-fed, content Juice was never on his A game. And Ava was glad he wasn't with her right now, wasn't about to get himself in trouble because he loved her to pieces and didn't want anyone to show her a shred of disrespect.

"She's a member's Old Lady," Tara spoke up in a voice tight with forced professionalism. Ava thought it must be the way she spoke to the stubborn parents of her patients. She flicked a glance in the doc's direction and saw Tara's hand under the table, cellphone open. She was texting someone. Which gave Ava all of a matter of seconds to get Roman to go away before her bantam rooster husband appeared, comb up and claws at the ready.

"Get lost, Roman," she said, knuckles turning white around the spoon handle. "You and Juice fought, you lost, get over it."

Which was clearly the wrong thing to say because his red-rimmed eyes narrowed to slits. "You think you got rights?" he demanded. "You think -,"

"Roman!" Jax must have been close because suddenly he was there, scowling, coming at Roman from a little crest in the landscape that gave him a superior height advantage. To Ava's relief, he was alone, Juice nowhere in sight. "What the fuck?"

The crank hadn't addled his wits completely, because the Utah Son wiped his nose on his sleeve and stalked off with one last glare.

"You guys a'ight?" Jax came down to stand across from them at the table, fishing a smoke from his pocket. His glance landed on Ava, she noted with a little sigh. "You provoke that?" but his tone was concerned, not unkind. The new-and-improved Sane Ava was his cousin first, that annoying crybaby second, and she'd regained some of his respect in the past few months.

"No," she shook her head vehemently, pleased that Tara backed her up.

"He's strung out. Most likely meth," the doc said, nose wrinkled. "Just came outta nowhere trying to start shit with her."

The SAMCRO Prez scanned the area, frowning. "I'll keep an eye out. Rev says he's been fucked up at home. But you," another stern, almost-paternal look for Ava – ", don't interact with him at all."

"Trust me, I won't."

**-O-**

_He should be back by now, _Cassie thought for the hundredth time. How long had it been? An hour? An hour and a half? Too long. A thousand scenarios, each one more terrible than the last, cycled through her mind, turning her insides into a nest of writhing snakes. Under the pavilion and beyond, Sons and their women milled around, eating, drinking and laughing. Prospects were hauling kindling and firewood up the hill to the little field where the bonfire would be lit later. The air was thick with the smells of barbecued meat. And all she could think about was Koz and the risk he was taking by defending her. She missed Luc and home, the calm, Topanga-free life back in Tacoma she wished she could rewind back to.

"Hey, darlin'." The sun was rapidly setting and in the gloomy twilight, she hadn't seen Glen approach.

She started up out of her camp chair. "Glen. Oh, sorry," she sank back down again. "You startled me."

He grinned, just a quick twitch of his rusty mustache. "I figured that." His cowboy boots were loud clomping up the steps. He had the long legs and tight Wranglers of a rancher, the lanky frame that, without his cut, made him look like an all-American farm hand rather than an outlaw. According to Koz he was a fantastic president, and Cassie had witnessed his patience and reasonable attitude first hand, but she wasn't sure if this was a social call, or a reprimand.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked, dragging another of the plastic chairs from the opposite side of the porch.

"No." She dabbed at her eyes and took a few calming breaths while he got situated. "I…" she wanted to say something polite, ask how he was doing, see if Janine needed her help, but all the pleasantries died on her tongue. She just didn't have any more fake smiles in her at this point.

Thankfully, Glen wasn't big into pleasantries himself. "Hear you been havin' a hard time of it this week."

"That would be an understatement."

He nodded and stared out into the evening. "Koz'll come back," he said matter-of-factly. "He always comes back. If he survived Somalia, he ain't gonna die in South Dakota."

"He's not exactly flying a Bell Viper and raining Hellfire missiles for the US government this time, Glen. Whatever happens, this is on _me. _And I dunno how to deal with that."

He lit a cigarette and regarded her a moment. "I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that _you_ are the better cause in his head."

How was that even possible at this point? She sighed again – she was so tired of sighing. This was the goddamn day that would never end and she couldn't seem to pull herself out of the emotional downward spiral that seemed intent on breaking her to pieces. Even though Glen was being much kinder than she'd dared to hope, especially based on the mother charter's reception of her problems, she couldn't scrape together any optimism.

"I never lied to Koz," she said because she felt like she had to say it. "Never. But I know everyone thinks I did, they're saying -,"

"A buncha shit," he finished for her. "People talk, with a group this big, it happens. You've met my wife," he said with a small grin. "The mouth on that one…Lord." Cassie felt herself smile too, just a little. Glen cleared his throat. "Listen, sweetheart, I know this is a bad situation. But while just as important as everyone else, Ava Ortiz is _not_ everyone else. And it ain't as if she never fucked up…pardon my French. We're not puppets 'round here, darlin'. Redwood's got clout, but each charter, each member, has a mind of his own, even if it don't seem that way sometimes. Club comes first, yeah, but we got families."

He took a thoughtful pause and Cassie realized she was now perched on the edge of her chair.

"My advice, for what it's worth, is to stop worryin' about what everyone thinks, and worry about what your man thinks." He knocked the ash from his cigarette. "I've known Koz a long time, and he don't do close. Not till now at least." His eyes were kind, soft around the edges. "You wouldn't be here, with him, meetin' all his people if you weren't damn important. Let him be a white knight cause that's exactly what he wants to be. You've got nothin' to prove, sweetheart. So pluck up."

She nodded. "I still feel terrible about it, though. I'm sorry, Glen. This just got started as me trying to protect my son."

He snorted and his warm, callused hand settled over hers. "Good mothers might be the only thing that saves this gun-toting, gang-infested world of ours. You're fine, honey." He patted her hand and then stood, his knees popping. "We've still got plenty of grub if you're hungry," he said as he descended the porch steps.

"Thanks." But she couldn't eat a bite.

**-O-**

"You don't even like potato salad," Juice stabbed at Ava's plate with his fork.

"I know." She was sitting in front of him in a folding camp chair – some of the other women from other charters were standing, but he'd gladly let his girl have his chair. He could pick off her plate that way. "I got it so you could have it." And she passed the rest of her dinner up over her shoulder to him. She never ate very much and he hated to see good food go to waste, but that just seemed extra sweet of her: spooning up portions knowing she'd give them to him.

"Thanks, babe."

"Oh, you two make me sick," Tig grumbled, which made Juice smile. It was always nice to upset a brother for something good, rather than some FUBAR that left him apologizing and fumbling for a solution.

"They're still in that newlywed stage," Bobby said.

Jax laughed. "Give it a few more months…then it's back to crazy."

"Thanks, coz," Ava said, but didn't sound offended. She and the SAMCRO prez were, Juice was glad to see, back to a better point in their relationship.

The sound of approaching bikes drew his attention. Why, he wasn't sure, because with this many Sons in attendance, brothers were always coming and going. But when he glanced up toward the drive, shoveling potato salad in his mouth, he spotted Koz, RJ and Mayday pulling back into camp and felt an immeasurable sense of relief. _Thank Jesus. _He didn't care if the terms hadn't been the same as before, he was done having any sort of responsibility toward anyone's Old Lady upon his death. That had only worked the first time because Ava was, well, Ava. But he wasn't letting that happen again. Seeing Koz back in one piece was a very good thing.

He didn't realize that he was still staring – watched the brothers split apart, Koz going straight to the porch of their cabin where his girl was sitting, watched them trade words he couldn't her, Koz dropping a kiss to her forehead before they walked back to his bike – until Ava reached back and tickled her nails against his stomach.

"Did you hear me?"

"What? Oh, no. Sorry."

She had her head tilted back so she was looking at him upside down and rolled her eyes, one of those gestures intended just for him that meant she thought their present company was nuts, and not him, which didn't really happen that often: Ava was possibly the only person who thought _he _was the normal one. "The peanut gallery is asking about names."

"Names for…?"

"Baby names."

"Seriously?" he could tell Tara was the one who'd asked because she had her legs crossed and was looking at the two of them all…overly interested. "We don't even know if…" he couldn't bring himself to say what he'd wondered: did his swimmers even swim? Did they swim well? Could they find the way to where they needed to go? God, what if he had _retarded_ juice? He knew Ava was fertile, but he was as of yet untested. And this was important to her, to him, to them. It wasn't even about a baby anymore; he could see that in her eyes when she arched under him and her nails bit into his shoulders.

"We haven't really talked about it," Ava saved him. "If it's a boy…" he saw her nibble hesitantly at her lip ", I'd really like to name him after Juice since Sam is a junior."

He snorted. "The world doesn't need another me."

A bike started again, pulling his attention. It was Koz, this time leaving with Cassie behind him. It was weird seeing him with an Old Lady. Not any weirder than seeing anyone else, but it just wasn't something he'd expected. Cassie seemed nice, but then again, didn't everyone? Maybe he shouldn't have an opinion, no, he definitely shouldn't have one. His priority should be club safety first, then that of his family…but it had been good to see Ava getting along with her at first. If she didn't start spending time with other women, he was afraid he'd wake up one morning and find that she'd painted his nails and given him a facial in his sleep. Christ…

"Juice," someone hissed, and he damned his ADD internally. It was really out of control tonight.

"What?"

He recognized Roman instantly as the Utah Son came toward their group, and his stomach fisted up into a hard knot. Roman's features were set in a hard, illogical scowl, his gait hurried and off beat, fast then slow, almost seeming to stumble. He zig-zagged through the happy, unaware Sons and Old Ladies in front of him, his eyes, Juice noticed, locked on Ava the whole time. And she had no idea he was headed their way – the warning had come from Opie who was now standing beside them.

"Yeah," Juice bit out. He tossed his plate onto the picnic table. "I see him." By the time Roman stepped into their semi-circle, Juice had moved in front of Ava's chair and was urging her backward, felt her hand curl around his arm.

"Baby -,"

And then all his brothers were on their feet, all talking at once. Tig grabbed Roman by the cut, clearly intent on ejecting him from their gathering, but the Utah member yelled ", hey!" and they all fell silent. Ava's hand was shaking on his arm now.

"I wanna rematch," Roman said, finally looking at Juice for the first time. His eyes were all wrong.

Over a year ago, when he'd found pregnant, distraught Ava in the asshole's lap, he'd been furious in a way he'd never experienced. This time, he recognized the protective, basic need to physically wreck this creep who wanted to hurt his woman. This time she was his wife and they were so meshed together that sometimes he wasn't sure where he ended and she began. This time, he had the mental image of her taking a deep breath and stowing her birth control pills in the nightstand drawer, giving him a shaky, hopeful smile.

"Yeah," he cracked his hands into fists. "You got one."

But Jax obviously didn't think so. "Whoa!" the president got to his feet. "Nah, this is a goddamn vacation for us. And cops are crawlin' all over the place."

Juice's eyes never left Roman. The guy looked like shit; unwashed, unshaved, clothes looked like he'd slept in them for three days. He didn't look so cocksure and composed as last time, no, he was strung out. Enraged. If Juice didn't agree to the public brawl, he was just as like to try and slip into their cabin that night with a knife. And, if he was being honest with himself, he hated the fucker.

"I wanna do this, Jax." And this time his Old Lady would be cheering him on instead of testing him. This time he was protecting her instead of just defending his honor. Shit, yeah, that was a total turn-on, knowing that he was keeping his girl safe.

"This storm's been brewin' for a while," he heard Tig say ", might as well let 'em have it out."

Jax scowled. "I don't like this shit."

Roman's hands were twitching.

Finally, the SAMCRO president heaved a sigh. "A'ight. But we do this clean. No rings, no weapons, no sneaky shit," he looked between the both of them. "You understand? This is just a spar, not a fuckin' duel to the death."

Juice nodded and watched as Roman did some semblance of the same.

Jax sighed again. "Not now. We're all gonna finish eating. Tig, then you and Ope set it up."

**TBC**


	10. Black Hills Reckoning part II

**AN: **Thanks so much for reviewing, guys. I apologize in advance because I'm not sure when the next update will be along. I have a chapter of both my stories ready to post, then it's a guessing game after that. One of my horses is very sick and trying to recover from surgery, so there may be a delay. Thanks again. Reaper and I love writing this and we're glad to have such wonderful readers.

…

**10. Black Hills Reckoning Part II**

Cassie hadn't asked where they were going or how the meeting had gone. She'd followed him to his bike with no sense of hesitation and had been glad to wrap her arms around his waist, rest her cheek against the rough threads of his top rocker. Outside of camp, she'd noticed that he was steering clear of the interstate, was instead opening the throttle up as they flew down a deserted two-lane somewhere just outside of Sturgis. She tightened her arms as houses, farms and fences flew past in a blur, the wind pricking tears in her eyes.

Between the bite of thrown gravel and the chill of the air, she was glad she'd traded her skirt for jeans and had thrown her jacket over her halter top. The roar of the engine drowned out all other sounds, they were in their own little world, alone together inside the bubble of wind and growling machine. Cassie pressed her face harder into the leather of his cut and tried to pretend that it really was just the wind that was making her cry.

When Koz finally slowed, the sound of the bike downshifting startled her – though a part of her had wondered if they were going to ride all night, the monotony had been soothing. She might have fallen asleep if he hadn't pulled over.

Koz rolled the bike into the lot of a gas station/convenience store/single-bay auto shop and the place appeared deserted. If not for the neon beer signs flickering in the front windows, she might have thought the place abandoned. It was a relic – the gas pumps didn't have credit card readers. A single security lamp flickered overhead in lieu of the modern, well-lit canopies that shielded the pumps of most stations. The sign along the street declared that they were at Gibson's Full Service Texaco. But an attendant hadn't come out to greet them.

Cassie unsnapped her helmet once they were parked and glanced around. Grease puddles had been hastily covered with sand. A stack of tires blocked access to the air pump. An industrial-size dumpster was overflowing with trash…and smelled like it. Two dilapidated picnic tables sat up in front of the food mart.

She slid off the bike when Koz took up the nozzle to gas it, watching him scowl as he wrestled with the ancient, rusted pump. "I can't believe this shit," he muttered when the pump finally clicked and whirred and the numbers started flipping with painful slowness. "Gonna take all night."

Cassie let her eyes go wandering again, taking more careful note of Gibson's. The _We Sell Lottery Tickets _sign in the window, the heavy chain that secured the lock on the garage door, the payphone tucked away in the shadows. "If we're gonna be a minute, I'm gonna look for a restroom," she said, taking a hesitant step away from the bike.

Koz nodded, so she took another step, then another. Her boot heels _clack_ed against the stained concrete, sounding loud as gunshots. Like back at the motel, she had the sense she was walking onto the set of a cheesy teen horror flick: all she needed was a fog machine and eerie violin music. She moved toward the payphone, assuming the restroom might be back in the shadows – of course it would be in the dark, spooky shadows – and leapt, hand over her heart, when an angry dog's bark broke the silence. She had backed up until her shoulders bumped the brick of the food mart before she realized that the ferocious, snarling hell beast was in the locked garage bay. She could hear him pawing at the door. And though out of sight, he sounded huge. Then she noticed the signs on the door. _Doberman Spoken Here _presided over a silhouette of said dog. Cute. After a moment it stopped growling, but then she heard it snuffling at the bottom of the door, trying to find a way out to get at the intruder.

She hadn't heard Koz walk up beside her, but suddenly there he was, chuckling. "Gonna have to recommend this place to Tiggy."

**-O-**

"Combos and a Coke?" Koz raised a brow at her "dinner" as she climbed onto the rickety picnic table outside of Gibson's.

"Coffee and a cinnamon bun?" she countered.

"Yeah." He popped the tab on the plastic lid of his black-with-two-sugars, took a sip, and grimaced. "Real fuckin' bad coffee." Which he guessed was on par with their real fuckin' bad day. When he pulled the cinnamon bun from his pocket and dropped it on the table, it landed with a loud thud. "Could play hockey with that." And really, he didn't care. Whatever he ate was only going to make the acid churning around in his gut that much stronger. He got up on the table beside her, choosing to ignore the way the thing groaned in protest, and rested his arms on his thighs. Fatigue settled like a blanket across his shoulders, and not the satisfying soreness of a good fight or fuck…this was stress chipping away at him, making his body tight and sore and leaving his head throbbing.

They sat, silent, in the dark for a long time, Cassie's Coke fizzing when she unscrewed the cap. Finally, he heard her take a deep breath. "I think we need to talk about what we're not talking about."

He flicked a glance in her direction. "Yeah?"

Cassie stared at her hands, the bottle held loosely between them. The look on her face was one he was quickly realizing he didn't like at all. "Yeah. Look, I'm really…"

He cut her off. "I don't wanna hear 'sorry' come outta your mouth one more time, Cass." Her head shot up, eyes wide and surprised. "Your 'sorry' is giving me goddamn indigestion. You had no idea you'd get blindsided by this shit, so you don't gotta apologize. You hear? You keep at this, and I'm gonna start believing you actually _did_ have some idea the Top Cay shit was gonna erupt." There were worse things to feel than guilt, and he knew she was sweet, that she was sorry her past had bled on him – but the kind of guilt she was feeling could eat at a person. Make them weak. Could lead them to decisions that were damaging to those around them. He just couldn't let Cass hold onto hers.

"I…I didn't," she shook her head.

"I know. And it's handled. You and Lucas are as safe as I can make you right now." She blinked a few times. "Do I trust the old fucker will keep his word in the long run? Not a chance. But by patch and association, Whiskey and his crew are good and intimidated. We agreed to disagree on the subject of the missing money. And as far as your mom heading back home, being alone in the Canyon…I talked to Mayday. The Sons may not have a So-Cal charter, but the Nomads move between four states, within striking distance for sure. And if need be, I'll ride the eleven-hundred miles to Topanga myself to keep those assholes from reneging on our deal." He nodded. "I swear."

She was speechless a moment, still blinking, staring at him. He'd even surprised himself with the vehemence in his tone. He hadn't meant to say all that he had, but it had come tumbling out. _Like staring into the sun, _Juice had told him once. Stupid Juice. Since when was he ever right about anything?

"Koz, I-," she started and then held up a finger, asking him not to interrupt. "Not apologizing. I…I appreciate all of this. I don't even really know what to say." She shook her head. "I've been depending on myself, going to bat for Luc solo for so long. I just…" he thought she might reach for him, but her fingers fiddled with the Coke bottle "…wanted to thank you, okay? I'm not with you because I expect things: protection, the club's support. That's not what it's about and I'm honest to God shocked…well, maybe that's not the right word. But I didn't ask this and you did it for me anyway. And that's exactly why this is where I want to be: with you."

Her green eyes had become so intense he found himself looking away, glancing out into the night and taking another sip of coffee by accident. "Yeah?"

She sighed, but it wasn't an unhappy sound: more nervous. Hopeful. He didn't know. "Yes," she said. "Koz, I…" he had to glance at her again, see the hesitance that he heard in her voice. She chewed at the inside of her cheek a moment, and then in a great rush, pulling back like she expected the worst, blurted ", I want you to move in with me."

Which was not what he'd thought she'd say. He took yet another sip of coffee, unable to hide his grimace, and then wished he had because her face fell. Christ, what did he say to this?

Her stomach growled and it was the break the conversation needed. "Come on," he stood. "You need some real food."

He slipped off the table and took a step or two before he realized Cassie wasn't following. He made a three-point shot with his coffee cup into the overflowing trash can before turning around and eyeing his girl. Her posture was stiff, face now guarded. _Shit!_ Koz forced out a breath – better to let her have it out than to let it continue to fester – and shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. He raised a brow. "I'm an asshole, I know."

She shook her head, "I didn't say that, don't put words in my mouth. You're being you. I actually expected an honest, even brutal, reaction. I prefer that over fake-ass pleasantry every time," she twitched a tiny smile. "You know that. I'm not asking you to give me your balls to wear on a necklace or looking to fit you for an electric dog collar. Me askin' you to come live with me... it's not about that."

If she'd expected brutal honesty…"In my entire life, I've been completely committed to exactly one thing."

"Your club," she nodded. "I get that. I do. And I'm not asking you to change priorities; this is about me being selfish. I love falling asleep and waking up with you in my bed. I don't even detest cleaning up those obnoxious hairs you leave all over my sink when you shave anymore. Because it means you've been around. _I like you being around_. As much of a nightmare as this trip has been, it's only spoiled me ... made me want…need…more. I know you're at my place more often then you aren't, but it still sucks that it has that distinction as being _my_ place." She sighed, shrugged. "You are where you are with it. But at least now you know where I am."

She stood up, added her half eaten Combos and Coke bottle to the pile of trash, and headed for his bike.

**-O-**

_Please no. _Ava cupped her hands and caught all eight of his rings as he settled them in her palms. The look in his eyes, the love for her that had been forced and bent and beaten into a teenager's hostility frightened her more than any of the deadly calm or bloodlust she'd seen the last time he'd faced Roman.

_Please no. _"Juice," she tried again, his big brown eyes flicking up to hers before he ducked out of his shirt and handed that to her too. Her voice caught in her throat, tears threatening that she didn't want him to see.

"I have to do this," he told her in a voice that he thought was tough, but sounded endearing to her ears. She was standing there stupidly, heart climbing up her esophagus, so he wrapped his big, callused hands around hers and closed her fingers, the shirt and rings a tight bundle between them. "I got this," Juice said, offering a tight, sure smile. "Remember last time?"

_Please no. You were all hopped up on hating me last time. _But she said, "yeah," instead, voice quavering. "Just, please…" _no _", be careful, okay?"

He took her face in his hands and kissed her hard, smiling when he pulled back. "Don't have to be."

She hugged his things to her chest as he walked off, watching the way his "family tree" came alive as the muscles in his back rippled. His build would be his only saving grace here. He'd retained the extra muscle he'd packed on for Rubio – still boxed and ran and lifted – and her newfound cooking skills had put a little padding around his middle too. He had at least forty pounds on Roman and she knew how strong his arms were: if he could get the asshole on the ground and get his arms around him, he could crush him like a boa constrictor.

"His tattoo is still very prone to infection," Tara said to her left, and though it was true, Ava couldn't have cared less at the moment.

"Yeah, well let's make sure he lives and then we'll worry about the tat."

Tara squeezed her shoulder. The crowd shifted, the ring of spectators tightening so that Ava had to stand on her tiptoes. Roman was already waiting inside the makeshift arena, the headlamps of three bikes bathing him in an eerie, white glow. Juice was very dark in comparison, heavier and stockier. But Roman's eyes were glazed and his lips were pulled back off his teeth: you couldn't outmatch crazy.

_Please no, _she thought one more time, but it was too late.

**-O-**

Something was wrong at camp. Koz knew the moment he killed his engine that the scene they were returning to was not one of revelry. At the far end of the gravel drive, a crowd was amassing on a low hill. Many still remained beneath the pavilion, mostly women and a few old timers who were locked in poker games with money on the table. "Stick close," he told Cass as he dropped his helmet on the handlebars of his Dyna.

"What's going on?" her voice sounded thin, like she couldn't possibly take any more bullshit. He was thinking the same thing, but kept it to himself.

"Dunno. But something is." Koz could feel her close at his heels as he headed toward one of the tables of Sons beneath the pavilion. "Hey, guys, what's up on the hill?"

The poker player who finally glanced up had a white shock of hair badly in need of some type of product. He sucked at his teeth a moment. "Some kinda scuffle. Dunno. Some of the boys got into it."

"Which boys?"

"One from Redwood," a woman spoke up and Koz saw that Suellen was walking toward them, two blonde women in tow. She sounded almost excited to have news to share. "The one with the tattoos on his head."

Juice. Juice and…Roman. Had to be. "Goddamn it," he muttered. "Stay here with Suell," he told Cass and then took off at a jog up the hill toward the ring of spectators. As he drew closer, he could hear the shouts and cheers. When he reached the outskirts of the group, he was flat-out running.

"Koz!" Cassie had followed him.

He was in too much of a hurry to be angry with her. At this point, he could hear the smack of fists on flesh. He took a half a second to process her wide eyes, the fear in them, and pointed toward a little stripling tree that was out of the way. "Stay over there," he ordered. "And do not move."

**-O-**

It was dark now, and the headlamps highlighted the sheen of sweat on both their bodies, Juice's skin a burnished gold. He was getting tired, his punches coming slower, his blocks not as effective. Blood trickled from his split lip, down his chin, dripping onto his chest. Roman, still chemically wired, fired off another sharp combination of blows, glancing Juice in the temple, the thud a loud smack as it echoed around the crushing ring of bodies. Ava was fighting to stay up near the front, stay where she could see, all of Juice's rings rattling as they swung from the chain on her neck. She clawed and grappled at the arms around her, trying to stay above the tide of enthusiastic bikers. They were bloodthirsty for action. She was praying her husband didn't get slaughtered.

"Yeah!"

"Holy shit!"

"Kill that fucker!"

The bikers around her were yelling and then suddenly their voices joined as one, this great crescendo of a yell, and she was shoved violently sideways. She staggered, went down to her knees, and between a pair of denim-clad legs in front of her, she saw what was happening. Juice was stumbling backward, trying desperately to regain his footing, Roman coming at him with relentless hit after hit. They tumbled into a shaft of light and Ava saw the rock jutting out of the dirt before her man started to fall, couldn't hear her own cry as his feet finally gave out and he went backward and backward, until his head impacted the half-buried slab of granite with a sickening _crack._

Juice's body went limp, arms falling out to the side, and Roman seized the opportunity. Ava scrambled forward, clawing at the dirt, as the Utah Son went to his knees and grabbed Juice's head. She was screaming incoherently, her throat raw, and saw her man's skull get pounded back on the rock again, and again, and then she was shoved backward out of the crowd, rolling across the loose ground, tears pouring down her face as she yelled and cursed and kicked.

Out of instinct, her hand found the slim, bone handle of the little pig-sticker she kept inside her boot, the one her father had brought all the way from Scotland with him. Sons from all charters had converged onto the fight, the ring dissolved, angry shouts drowning out her hoarse promises to gut Roman alive. Ava finally got to her feet and realized that the fighters had been pulled apart, but she couldn't see her man, panic closing her throat until she was breathing in short, frantic draws. When she spied Roman's face bobbing in and amongst those of others, she lunged…and came up short, someone's arm was banded around her waist.

**-O-**

Cassie scolded herself as she tightened her grip on Ava. What the fuck kind of crazy person tried to hold back a distraught, crying and screaming girl hell bent on throwing herself into a dogfight? Apparently she did. Because as she'd watched Juice's head get slammed onto the outcropping of rock, her eyes had swung to Juice's wife, and as she'd expected, had seen Ava lose it. And she'd made a snap decision. Rather than sit on the sidelines and sympathize with the couple, she'd decided that letting Koz's beloved "niece" get her possibly-pregnant-self hurt in the middle of the fray was a bad idea. So she'd thrown her arms around Ava's waist and now tugged for all she was worth.

"Ava! Ava, stop!"

She kicked and Cassie hissed as she connected with her shin. "Let go!" she screamed back. "Let me go!" her nails raked at Cassie's arm ", _he needs me_!" And even though she was taking a beating from her, brat or not, Cassie felt her heart go out to the girl. She would have probably elbowed her own mother in the face to get loose at this point.

The crowd churned in front of them and it was impossible to tell what was going on. But the din of voices was almost deafening. Cassie thought she heard Koz above the others.

It was humid and both of them were sweating, arms slippery, and when Ava jumped, wriggled like a fish, she nearly pulled away. "Ava…shit, this is for your own good." Cass took two steps back, attempted to drag the crazed girl with her, and ended up tripping on another of those damned, half-buried rocks. When she stumbled, she knocked Ava off her feet and they both yelped as they fell.

Cassie landed on her ass and the impact knocked all the air out of her lungs. Ava took the fall on her shoulder in front of her, and before she could get organized, Cassie lunged forward and grabbed her around the middle again. "I'm sorry, really, I just tripped. But Christ, you've got to stay out of that! You'll get hurt, and what if you're pregnant?"

But Ava didn't try to get up again. She sat up, but then was still, not resisting Cassie's hold anymore. She was limp now, exhausted, panting, dirt sticking to her tear-stained cheeks. "Oh, Juice," she groaned. "Oh…" her hands shook when she raked them back through her hair, holding the dark locks off her sweaty neck.

"He'll be okay," Cassie said hollowly, knowing it sounded stupid, but wanting to offer at least some small scrap of comfort.

The Redwood Old Lady shook her head.

The crowd parted and in the middle were Tig and Koz, pushing people back, barking orders. Mayday had hold of the guy Juice had been fighting and he was dragging him off, Jax Teller and another officer – she guessed another president – following. Koz and Tig went with them and Cassie had never seen her man look like that: the intensity of his expression, the violence that radiated off of him. He and his fellow SAA were no longer squabbling enemies, but focused equals as the fighter was marched off into the shadows.

Slowly, Cassie pulled her arms away. She had a wicked scratch on one that was bleeding, and dust and dirt had clung to the beaded perspiration. Ava didn't move, just sat there. Cass dared to lean back, braced herself on her arms, and as the adrenaline faded, she became aware of just how exhausting this giant clusterfuck of a day had been.

Most of the spectators had dispersed and milled around them now in twos and threes, muttering to one another. Cass only caught snatches of "Jesus" and "shit" and "bad". A small knot of Sons had gathered around Juice, who was still, she noticed with a shudder, sprawled on his back. Doc Tara was on her knees beside his head, a keychain flashlight in her hand. _Checking his pupils…_

"Ava," the short, hefty Son with all the kinky hair who'd been talking to Tig before was standing in front of them now. She hadn't even seen him approach. "You okay? Come on, doll," and he extended a hand to help the girl to her feet.

"I tried to keep her out of it," Cassie said. Her voice sounded terrible; raw and strained.

Bobby nodded. "'Preciate it." And he put an arm around Ava's shoulders as he took her to her fallen husband.

When they were gone, Cass wrapped her arms around her knees and stared down at the dusty toes of her boots. _There's no place like home, there's no place like home…_no one seemed to notice her.

**-O-**

"Can you open and close your hands?" Tara asked as she peeled back Juice's eyelid and danced the flashlight beam across his pupil. Even from his angle on the kid's other side, Chibs could see it contract. _Good. _He did as requested, making two fists and then releasing them. He wasn't all there, though, he hadn't said anything yet, was just lying there, compliant as a doll, staring at nothing. Chibs' hand came away bloody when he touched the back of his neck and he cursed.

He met Tara's glance. "How long was he out for?" her face looked tight, worried even under her professional façade.

"Thirty seconds or so." He shrugged. "Long time."

"Shit." The doc moved to his other eye. "Juice? How you doing, you okay?"

He licked his lips and murmured something neither of them understood.

Tara sighed. "He should go to an ER, get a scan. He could have serious bleeding and there's nothing we could do about it in the field."

"Chibs." Bobby was back again, Ava beside him. The poor thing looked worse off than her Old Man: streaked with dirt, one knee of her jeans torn out, hair a mess, face slick with tears and dirt-caked.

Her eyes were fixed on Juice. "Oh, baby," her voice caught in her throat and it looked like she might start hyperventilating. _It's not fair, _Chibs mused. It didn't seem like she was ever going to be allowed to keep a man in one piece. But he was getting ahead of himself.

"Come 'ere, darlin'," he urged. "Come sit next to me."

She did, settling down on her knees in the dirt beside her husband's head. Chibs gave her credit; she didn't fall apart the way he'd thought, but brushed her palm ever so lightly down his mohawk.

Juice's eyes went to her immediately. "Hey, Mama." It was the first coherent thing he'd said. And then he reached for her.

"Hey," Ava was working damn hard, had to be, to keep her voice normal. She met him halfway, slid her fingers through his and squeezed. "How you feeling?"

He shifted around in the dirt and groaned. "Head hurts."

"I know, baby, I know."

Chibs traded another look with the doc and she gave him a little shrug with her eyebrows. "He's got one hell of a concussion," she told Ava. "And he's gonna be sleepy and out of it. I've got pain killers in my bag. But both his pupils are responsive and I don't see any obvious signs of motor skill impairment."

Chibs was proud of his girl: she nodded and agreed, asked the doc what she should look for if things started going downhill. It was a miracle, really, that she hadn't managed to get through the crowds and get involved in the fight. Then he and Tara would have been hovering over two casualties to this brawl. As it was, Roman wasn't likely to get out of Sturgis with a reaper on his back.

Roman – that fucker. You didn't do that to one of your brothers. No matter the charter, the bad blood, there was no room for what that asshole had done. Chibs had spent years watching Tig and Kozik bicker like an old married couple, and they drew blood more often than not, but this…this was treacherous. And to Juicy-boy no less. No one disliked Juice, how could they? He had his completely stupid moments, sure, and he'd gone through a transformation, Chibs had seen it. All that shit with Hap dying and dealing with Ava's grief had done something to the lad – but bottom line, he was still a sweet kid. You didn't try to fucking _kill_ sweet kids.

Ava leaned down and brushed a kiss to Juice's forehead, finding a thin smile for him somewhere in the crazy place that Chibs knew was her head at the moment. He felt his own anger stir. As VP, he should have been on his way to court to help determine Roman's fate. But he'd told Jackie-boy what he thought before he'd attended to his son-in-law.

"You take his fuckin' head off if you want to. I don't care."

And he'd meant it.

**-O-**

He'd quit resisting by this point, hung limp in Mayday's grasp as the big man held him up by the arms. Roman's head lolled on his neck. Blood had run down from his split lip and the jagged holes in his gums – Tig had kicked out a few of his teeth when he hadn't gotten to his feet fast enough – and trickled over his pasty, sweaty chest. Why Jax had thought the match was a good idea, Koz would never know. Every time he thought about the president actually approving the idea, he ground his teeth together.

Everyone with rank had been made aware of Roman's altered state – apparently. And Rev had been shaking his head and muttering about the asshole all week so far. A deaf, dumb and blind person could have told he was strung-out, and still Jax had sanctioned the spar. Was a confrontation inevitable? Sure. But why give Roman a free shot at the geek? Koz was fed up with the drama – all of it – and now didn't want shit to do with anyone who'd somehow allowed Juice to get his brains rattled. Though not something he voiced, he had a vested interest in Juice's safety as it played a huge part in Ava's safety, sanity and happiness. But also because, truth be told, he liked the dipshit.

Jax stood in the center of the tight circle they'd formed, Roman's cut in his hands. "You tried to kill a member. One of my brothers. One of _your_ brothers. And you still don't deny it?"

His mouth was so fucked up, Roman just shook his head. There was a time and place for denial, and tweaking or not, he knew that now was not that time.

"Bring his bike."

He had a Night Rod, and it had a gorgeous paint job – blacks and blues and tasteful hints of purple formed airbrushed flames on the fuel tank that enveloped a stylized reaper. It looked like he'd spent years customizing it. Tux and Carter had it and rolled it into the circle between them. That was when Roman came back to life a little bit.

"Nah, no, man, no," he mumbled through his ruined teeth. "Please," came out sounding like ", pweese."

Cold as stone, Jax took a can of black spray paint from a Utah member and shook it, ignoring Roman's pleas. Even if he wanted to bury the fucker, Koz cringed inwardly as he watched the SAMCRO president paint over all the club logos on the bike, ruining the glossy finish. When he was done, Jax tossed the can at Roman's feet. "Your patches are mine. And you've got twenty-four hours to black out your tats. Any member of this club sees you around Sturgis sporting reaper ink, we'll cut it off."

Koz cracked his knuckles. "Hey, Jax, you mind if I give him a little going away present?"

He snorted. "Be my guest."

**-O-**

Ava sat with her husband's head cradled in her lap, so careful that the big knot coming up at the base of his mohawk wasn't being poked by her bony ankle. With the tip of one finger, she traced his left lightning bolt over and over, just barely touching him, the familiar bristles of his scalp comforting. Her breath caught when his eyelids fluttered – she'd thought he was asleep.

"Hey. You a'ight?" his voice was dry and cracked, eyes struggling to focus when they finally got good and open. But they were open, and she felt thankful tears pool in her own eyes.

"I am if you are."

He blinked a few times and sighed, wincing. "Shit that keeps happening to the people in this cabin. It's like we're in one of those cheap slasher flicks and cabin six is the unlucky one." He wet his lips and they lapsed into silence, the moment stretching until, had he not been staring up at her, Ava would have worried that he'd lost consciousness. But he was staring, his eyes clearing a bit. "I'm glad you behaved," he said finally, and his voice was heavy with relief and the disturbing thought of the consequences misbehaving would have resulted in.

Ava wished she could take the credit. "Thank Cassie. If she hadn't grabbed me, I would have stuck that fucker like a pig."

He didn't smile, and she guessed she hadn't expected him to. Juice rolled over with a groan, resettled the side of his head against her thigh, and shut his eyes again. She was too emotional, still shaken up and raw after seeing his head slammed against the ground, still felt like sobbing was imminent, and she knew that warped her perception now, but she was suddenly struck with the memory of Sam falling asleep in her lap like this just a few weeks before. _Oh, God…_

She was going to fall apart. She'd survived the fight and the doctoring, watching Tara poke and prod, but seeing him like this…she'd reached her limit.

"Ava." Carter was in the doorway; she recognized his shadowy profile. "You need anything?"

"I…" she glanced worriedly at Juice, chest tightening, eyes glazing over. "I, um…"

"Maybe you should get some air," Carter suggested in a very sweet way that made her thankful it was him and not one of the other Sons. And then as if he could read her mind, "I can stay with him if you want."

"Oh, would you? Just…you don't have to do this," she gestured at her own position ", just…make sure he keeps breathing."

It was a ridiculous statement, but Carter just nodded and moved into the room, propping a shoulder against the wall. It felt like it took hours to slowly uncurl her legs from beneath his head, so, so careful not to wake him. Carter gave her one more nod when she lingered in the threshold, and then she was rushing through the cabin, head down, bursting out onto the porch. The sobs came before she could stop them; great big, wracking sobs that shook her whole body and left her lightheaded. She put her back to the wall and covered her mouth with a hand, trying to stifle the sound.

Then, through the haze of tears, she saw that she wasn't alone. Cassie was standing against the rail, looking at her slightly aghast, her hand held loosely around her throat. "Shit." Ava swiped at her face with her palms, hands coming away smeared with what little remained of her mascara. She hadn't thought there was a way to feel any more mortified tonight, but apparently there was, and she wrapped her free arm around her middle, wishing the floorboards would swallow her up. She tried desperately to reel in her sobs and ended up with a case of the hiccups.

Cassie didn't make eye contact, thankfully. Maybe she was embarrassed too. Or embarrassed for her. Ava couldn't remember what she'd been yelling, what she'd said or done while Koz's girl was trying to hold her back from the fight. In one second she'd reverted back to her typical, crazy, knife-wielding self. And she didn't care that it had happened, really she didn't…but maybe she wished other, more sane people hadn't witnessed it.

"Thanks," she said when she could.

Cassie regarded her a moment, her expression hard to read. "You're welcome." And then she stepped off the porch into the night, her boots crunching over the gravel.

Ava didn't know how long she sat there – at some point she'd slid down so her butt was on the floor – pulling herself together, trying to quit thinking about Juice as her literal baby, comparing him to Sam. But she was startled at the sound of approaching footsteps. It was Chibs and he climbed the steps wearily, coming to stand in front of her with a tired sigh. For some reason, the sight of him sent fresh tears tumbling down over her eyelids and she made a vain attempt of sucking them back in with a loud sniff.

"We stripped his patches," he said, but she knew there was much more to the story she'd never be told. "He ain't a reaper no more."

Ava nodded, but the tears came again, another fresh wave that left her speechless. _Goddamn hormones. _Going off the pill was making her a wreck.

"Ah, luv," her father crouched down in front of her and stroked the top of her head. "He's okay, yeah?"

Another nod.

He moved around so he sat beside her and put a warm, welcome arm around her shoulders, pulling her against his side. It made her realize that she was cold, had goosebumps on her bare arms. She rested her head gratefully against Chibs' shoulder, breathing in the old familiar smoke and leather smell of his cut, the tang of his aftershave. "Ya know what?" he asked and she felt his breath ruffle her hair.

"What?" she croaked.

"You, my lit'l scrapper, are a very sweet girl."

"Oh, please, Dad -,"

"I mean it," he insisted. "My favorite idiot in there is right lucky to have a pretty girl cryin' over him."

Ava twitched the smallest of smiles.

He cleared his throat, became more serious. "This is a hard life for a woman. Even if ya did learn from the best." He gave her a little squeeze. "You're a good wife, sweetheart. A good mum. And a good Old Lady. I'm proud of ya. So you don't gotta feel guilty anymore about what went on with you and your man."

"Guilty, huh? Am I that easy to read?"

"Kinda."

She wiped at her face again, pleased that this time, there were no black makeup streaks on her wrist. She must look fantastic. "When I saw him go down, I…Jesus, I thought…" she shook her head. "I can't do that again, go through that. Not with him. He's…I just can't."

"I know, baby, I know." He patted her shoulder in the sweet, protective papa sort of gesture she'd craved as a little girl.

The sky around them was lightening by degrees, turning from indigo to a charcoal grey, a thin strip of blood red along the horizon, the hills below just black waves. Dawn was approaching. A final end to what had felt like one of the longest days of her life. "I should call Mom," Ava said, hitching herself up straighter against the wall. "I never called her last night."

"I'll do it. You go get some sleep. Take care of Juicy-boy. Take the mornin' off."

It sounded like too good of an idea to refuse him, so she nodded and got slowly back to her feet, stiff and sore all over. Chibs stood too and pulled her into a hug.

"Love you."

"Love you too," she said against the front of his sweatshirt. "Thanks, Dad."

The cabin was just as empty when she walked back through it as it had been before. Carter had been the only one to stay and she guessed someone had tasked him with the job. He was still in the threshold of the bedroom, watching Juice sleep just as she'd asked. Ava tapped his arm lightly as she entered.

"Thanks, Carter. I'll take over."

He gave her a long, searching look, ensuring she was alright no doubt, and then left, closing the door softly behind him.

Juice was snoring, still on his side where she'd left him, the gray wash of predawn highlighting his shape in the bed. Her teeth were chattering she was so chilled, whether it was physical or mental it didn't matter. She stripped naked, left her clothes in a puddle on the floor, and took great care climbing into bed behind him and sliding beneath the covers. She lingered a moment, propped on her elbow, staring at his face in the shadows. He'd always looked about eight when he was asleep.

"I love you so much." She kissed his shoulder and then settled in behind him, skin-to-skin, her arm around his waist. Sleep came instantly.

**-O-**

There was a sailor's saying about red dawns, one Cassie couldn't remember verbatim. But she saw the thin strip of crimson along the horizon as she picked her way down to the pavilion. The coming day stood to be tumultuous, and all she wanted was a reprieve.

Koz was lying on the bench of a picnic table, seemingly asleep, but she knew he wasn't. She paused a moment when she noticed the wet sheen of blood on his knuckles. A shiver went through her. Without knowing what had been done to Juice's opponent, with not so much as a hint from any of the other Sons, the look on her man's face earlier had been enough to tell her that he'd gone to a different, sinister place in his head. There were things he had to do for his club that she'd never be a part of – and she preferred it that way.

Though she hadn't spoken, he must have heard her because his head lifted a fraction. "Hey, baby."

"Hi. ... not intruding am I?" She prayed he didn't affirm. "Just wanted to make sure you were alright." And truth be told, she'd never felt this alone around so many people. She'd rather be by his side, regardless of mood.

"Nah." He didn't sit up, but he motioned her closer with his hand.

She sat down on the bench, next to his head, leaned back against the table so she was looking down at him. "Um, they're worried about Juice. I overheard Doctor Tara and Ava's dad kinda arguing over taking him to an urgent care place. They haven't yet. He's resting at the cabin. People are watching over him…checkin' in on him."

Koz sighed and sat up, swinging his legs out in front of him. "Which means a constant stream of people in and outta there. " He rubbed his head, pulled his hand away and it shook a bit.

"You need to eat," she stated the obvious.

With a sigh, he nodded. Stood up and reached for her hand. "Come on."

**TBC**


	11. Black Hills Close

**11. Black Hills Close**

Red dawn was bleeding into pink morning when Carter rapped on the window of the travel trailer. After a moment, the drapes fluttered and then he heard soft, almost imperceptible footfalls moving through the RV. The door opened with a terrible squawk of hinges, badly in need of grease, and Mia stepped barefoot out into the morning. She was still in her pajamas and had a man's flannel shirt wrapped tight around her slender frame. Her hair was messy and eyelids still drooped with fatigue, but she still looked as stunning as when he'd first seen her on the sidewalk two days before.

"Hi," she scraped together a smile, pushing her hair back behind her ears hastily. Then her face fell as her eyes swept up him. "I got worried when you didn't come by last night…"

There had been a time in Carter's life – not so long ago, though it felt like it sometimes – when nothing would have kept him from sneaking off to spend time with the girl he liked. But now…now he was a Son. And his first duty was to his brothers. "Yeah, sorry," he told her, motioning toward a picnic table several yards off. "Some shit went down last night and I had to be there."

"What?" her voice became alarmed as she ducked beneath his offered arm and walked alongside him. "Is everyone okay?"

"_You can't have full disclosure right away," _he heard Opie's voice in his head. _"You don't talk club business with your woman."_

"Yeah, they're okay."

The table was one of three around a small fire pit: Mia's family had parked their motor home in a crowded, smelly campground that was filled with the electronic sounds of portable generators. This was where the peddlers slept during the rally. There was laundry out on lines, trash everywhere. A skinny dog was sleeping curled up beneath an old pickup. No one spent the week in Sturgis in style, but Carter had the distinct impression, based on the tidbits she'd shared, that Mia's life back home wasn't any better than this.

She climbed onto the table first, shivering, arms tight around her middle. Carter shrugged out of his sweatshirt and draped it around her shoulders as he took a seat next to her.

"Thank you." She touched his hand where it lingered on her shoulder, and her big brown eyes were as warm and inviting as melted chocolate. They swallowed him up, told him just exactly how she felt about him. Which both thrilled and terrified him. He'd known her just a few days, but still…

He put a knuckle beneath her chin and tilted her head back so he could kiss her. She'd popped a breath mint on her way out of the trailer, _Mentos_ he recognized as his tongue made contact with what was left of it. Both of Mia's hands circled around his neck, and then climbed higher, her thumbs brushing along his jaw. She was completely trusting. Which was both a blessing, and a curse if he thought about it.

Carter pushed her gently back and her face fell, lips still parted, eyes still open wide, but expression now one of sadness, like she was afraid she'd disappointed him. "You're beautiful," he told her and she blushed. "Way too beautiful to be selling t-shirts to skeevy bikers."

"Carter, I -,"

He shushed her with a wave of his hand. "I know what you're gonna ask."

Mia glanced away. She obviously thought she'd been more subtle than she had, but she hadn't. The question, request, plea, whatever he wanted to call it, had been so painfully clear that it had been bothering him to keep quiet about it this long. She wanted to leave Sturgis with him. It didn't matter that she didn't know him, or anything about Charming, whether he was secretly an ax murderer…or Tig. But regardless, she was willing to take a chance on him, that was how much she wanted to get away from her life, her family.

"I know what you want to ask me," he said, feeling like a jerk as he did. She didn't meet his gaze. "You want me to take you with me, right?"

Slowly, she nodded.

Carter sighed, feeling much older and more world-weary. The club came with a price, a big one. A shortened life full of stress and heartburn. He hadn't understood how Ava had always seemed so much more grown up until he'd become a part of her world. "Before you ask, before you make the decision that it's what you want, you need to understand something about my life. It's not some adventure, Mia. I love those guys, they became my family when I didn't have one…but it's not the life I was going after. I don't want you to become a part of this if it isn't what you want. If _I'm_ not what you want."

Her head whipped in his direction, tears glittering in her eyes. "How could you think I didn't want you after…" she blinked and glanced away again, drawing her knees up to her chest like a scared little girl. "I get it. You have plenty of women back home. Biker groupies," she spat the word, voice bitter.

"No," he insisted, reaching to run his fingers through her dark hair even as she leaned away from him. "That's not it at all. I'm trying to protect you."

"Protect me?" Mia faced him again. "If you really want to protect me, if you truly do…God, you'll take me away from this place. Please, Carter."

**-O-**

She didn't know how far they'd ridden, just that it was far. The sky was the color of polished steel and the clouds were low, the high level of humidity creating the sensation that her mother was fond of referring to as "close". Cassie had learned from her Papa to "just go with it" when you were pretty sure Dinah-Ma knew what she was talking about, even though no one else understood. So it was "close", the air thick and heavy around her, smelling of ozone when she breathed it in. She sat perched on the back of Koz's bike, staring at a place that might honestly have given the Ho Motel a run for its money in a contest for dive-i-ness. But, the shining attribute was what wasn't shining at all, and that was the "no" preceding "vacancy" on the sign. She'd be truly devastated if it turned out to be a blown light bulb and there actually weren't any rooms available. She wasn't up for backtracking it to camp; only biting at the inside of her cheek and envisioning the pain of falling asleep and then tumbling off the back of the Harley had kept her in the saddle.

Through a large plate glass window, she watched her man talk to the stringy-haired dude working in the office. Relief surged through her when she saw Koz reach for his wallet and hand over a credit card. As the clerk ran the no-doubt extremely inflated room charge through, Koz looked out at her, gave her a nod and a tired smile. The poor guy was just as exhausted as she.

"Fifty-nine-ninety-five?" she asked jokingly when he emerged, stowing his wallet. It's what the sign had boasted, but couldn't be true.

"Not this week," he muttered. "We got room ninety-seven. My new buddy Lloyd said it's 'round back, by the railroad tracks."

"Of course it is," she said, managing a chuckle as she slid back to the bump seat, giving him room to straddle the bike. "But hey, if it's got a bed, a bathroom, four walls and a door that locks, I'm good. Hell, I don't much care if the door doesn't lock, just so, ya know, the housekeeper is open-minded." As the engine growled to life, she couldn't hear his laugh, but with her arms wrapped around his middle, she felt it.

The place was old, but kept in good repair and the room was clean. Cassie made a bee-line for the bathroom as soon as the door had been opened. When she stepped back out into the room, she found the air conditioner cranked and Koz, stripped of his boots and outer layer of gear, kicked back on one of the room's two queen-sized beds in just jeans and a t-shirt with cutoff sleeves. "Bed's sturdy," he advised with a grin.

She rolled her eyes and calling him a smartass in her head, but laughed nonetheless. Cassie leaned against the door for support to remove her own boots and socks and then climbed onto the bed and stretched out beside him.

"How you feelin'?" Koz asked, shifting into a slightly different position as she settled with her head on the crook of his shoulder.

"Like a million... pesos." Her answer ended with a small yawn.

"What's that, like ten bucks in the U.S.?"

"Jesus!" she elbowed him lightly in the ribs. "I didn't think I looked _that_ awful." She'd grimaced at her own reflection in the mirror above the bathroom sink, the slightly puffy bags under her tired eyes. Exhausted, yes. But ten dollars? The bruise on her temple from where that bitch had clocked her during mud wrestling was progressing through the bruise rainbow. "For the last thirty-six hours I've been a stressed-out, panicked, sleep deprived, bundle of nerves, so those things considered…" she shrugged. At least her hair had looked good. One commonality between them was complete and utter hair-snobbery. Hers was currently brushed and held at bay by a pretty black scarf decorated with blood-red roses: an oddly-timed, or perhaps perfectly timed present from Koz right before he'd ridden off to save her from her past. When he'd managed to pick it up, she had not a clue, and didn't care. The scarf was beautiful and something she would have bought for herself, but at that moment the fact that he was giving her a gift at all had moved her to tears that she'd thankfully been able to hold at bay. He could have given her a pet rock and she would have felt the same. "For the record, unless the exchange rate fluctuated wildly in the last few days, it would be the equivalent of two hundred grand U.S."

A deep chuckle resonated from his chest; it sounded like a Hallelujah choir to her ears. "Seriously though, you a'ight?"

Cassie nodded, glancing all the way up to meet his eyes, twitching a small smile. "Weary... but I'll survive. You?"

"Weary... nice. I like that…yeah, weary..."

"Hey." She pushed up on her elbows so she could stare at him. "You can't have weary. Weary is mine. Get your own damn adjective."

Koz met her gaze with an intense one of his own. His face taking on a focused ruthlessness of a man who wanted to get laid and who was pretty damn certain he'd get his way. Cassie felt a shiver ripple through her system. Tired though she was, her body still responded to this man. With a certainty of her own, she knew she'd have to be dead not to.

"Horny." His movement was fast and fluid and she suddenly found herself on her back, his body pressing her into the mattress, staring up at him, as he braced himself above her. "How's that for an adjective?"

Her response came out as a cross between a laugh and a whimper.

**-O-**

He was having the prison nightmare again. Only this time, when he opened his eyes in a mild state of frozen panic, Juice realized there was still an arm around him, and a warm body was still pressed up against his back. And his head hurt like a motherfucker.

_Do not freak out…_the world was a gray, unfocused blur when he opened his eyes. He blinked until the room became clearer – the chipped dresser shoved up in the corner, the tiny window with a filmy white curtain that only partially blocked the leaden light coming in from outside. When he tilted his head, the pain radiating from the back of his skull intensified, and he became very aware that every muscle in his body was on fire. But he caught a glimpse of the delicate hand that rested on his stomach above the covers. And its silver-chrome nail polish, the onyx and white gold ring. Ava. _Thank Jesus._

He heard her inhale – his shifting around must have awakened her – and she stretched behind him, felt her breasts press against his shoulders as she moved up higher in the bed. "Hey, baby, you okay?" He almost, _almost_ cracked a smile at the worried cooing of her voice, the same tone she used when Sam bumped his head on the coffee table and started wailing.

He winced as he tried to roll over, then gave up. "Alright," he lied.

The sheets rustled as Ava sat up and her little hand on his shoulder was almost forceful when she attempted to push him onto his back. He bit back his groan and let her think she'd helped, rolling over and feeling just how big the knot was on the back of his head. The deep, throbbing pain was so intense, it was a moment before he recognized that his wife was naked, and that the covers had fallen down around her waist. The morning air was crisp, just cool enough to pebble her nipples into tight beads.

"Damn it," he sighed, and Ava leaned forward, laid her hand against his cheek, perfect naked skin coming closer.

"What? What's wrong?" her brows knitted together in concern.

His memory of the night before was sketchy at best. Juice recalled Roman and the shouts and cheers of his brothers. But he had a distinct impression that Ava had been upset. Very upset. And still was, judging by her expression. "You look hot."

That earned him a little huff of exasperation, which he knew was halfway to a smile. "Really? Major concussion and _that's_ where you're gonna go?" But the relief in her eyes told him that was exactly what she'd wanted to hear.

He pretended to contemplate it a moment. "Yeah. Pretty sure."

Ava rolled her eyes, grinned, but then gave him a serious look. "You scared me last night."

Teeth gritted against the protests of his body, he worked up into a sitting position, propped back against the headboard. "I'm sorry, babe."

"I mean," she blinked a few times ", really scared me."

"I know…"

She touched her stomach. "I'm not raising Little JC by myself."

"Okay, we are _not_ naming the poor kid that."

The smile returned, just a flicker. "You up for a shower? They're not expecting us at breakfast and your tat really needs cleaning up."

**-O-**

Even with the cascading water to distort the movement, Ava could see Juice's skin twitching as she ever-so-gently scrubbed his back. Dirt and dust and grime had become embedded in the tiny little scratch marks the tattoo needle had left behind and she winced when she used her nails to scrape off a speck of dried mud. He didn't protest though, which unnerved her a bit – he had been known to whine about this kind of thing. She kept stealing glanced up at the goose egg on the back of his head and shuddering. And the completely platonic nature of all of their movements further proved that he was hurting this morning, if the bruises and scrapes weren't proof enough. Poor baby.

Ava had left her phone on the counter and heard it when it blasted to life. "You okay in here? That's probably Mom and I should get it."

"I think I can handle it." Sarcasm. An even better sign than whining.

She somehow managed to wring her hair out, climb out of the shower and wrap herself up in a towel before the call went to voicemail. "Hello," she said in a rush as she put the phone to her ear, tucking the towel up under her arm with her free hand and exiting the bathroom.

"Ava Rae," Maggie's voice trembled with what she knew was a mix of worry, anger, and the general frustration of being separated from all of them and unable to be involved. "What in the hell is going on up there? Your father only told me enough to worry me half to death. He's gonna age me ten years! I swear he's trying to close the age gap between us."

Ava had to smile. "I know, I should have called you. I was afraid his version of things would leave some explanation to be desired."

"No shit! How's our boy?"

"He's okay." She'd made her way out into the living room of the cabin – the place was deserted – and hearing her mother's voice was comforting. She sank down onto the couch. "God, Mom, it was terrible."

Ava could hear Sam talking in the background. "What happened?" She took a deep breath and launched into a brief, clean-as-possible recounting of the previous night's events. "Shit," Maggie said quietly when she was done. "He can't do that stupid shit anymore. He's got a family now, the big dumbass."

"I didn't egg him on," Ava squeezed her eyes shut tight against the sudden burn in them ", I swear I didn't."

"Oh, I know, baby -,"

"But I did last time." Her throat tightened, for the fiftieth time in the past twenty-four hours, and she just didn't care anymore. "This thing with Roman would never have happened if it weren't for that shit I pulled last year. Mom, I," she sucked in a ragged breath, tears spilling out over her cheeks ", I can't believe I was ever so bad to him. He could've gotten killed last night and it would have been m-m-my fault and I-I…"

"Sweetie," Maggie soothed. "Come on, don't do that to yourself. Egging on or not, Juice is out of his gourd crazy about you; he'd have stepped up to anyone who looked at you wrong. If it wasn't Roman, it'd be someone else. And we both know he's not Mike Tyson."

"I know," she wiped at her face, not wanting Juice to see her emotional when he eventually got out of the shower. She could still hear the water running.

"Okay, well perk up. He doesn't like it when you get upset."

"Okay."

"Here, maybe this'll cheer you up." Maggie put Sam on the phone and it made Ava smile. He asked where she was, where Daddy was, made her want to keep crying through her grin because hearing his little babbling voice reminded her that she was oh so homesick and tired of the carnival-gone-ridiculous that was Sturgis. By the time she hung up, her chest felt lighter, her guilt a little less acute. But when Juice came out to sit beside her, shirtless and barefoot in only jeans, she realized she was sitting with her elbows braced on her knees, staring at a spot on the floor.

"Was that your mom?"

She nodded and made herself lean back against the couch. "Yeah. Sam asked where we were."

The hot water seemed to have put some color back in his cheeks, but Juice looked exhausted, and the dual black eyes weren't helping. He hadn't shaved and the spilt in his lip was scabbing over. Ava didn't actively think about how much older he was than her – he was still about eighteen emotionally – but she was suddenly staring at a very mortal, very thirty-nine-year-old husband and feeling like she'd been here before. Because she had, had watched lines form on Hap's face, had watched his knee damn near immobilize him right up until he…

"Ava," Juice sighed, and when she felt the rough pad of his thumb on her cheek, she realized tears were pouring down her face. "Don't do this."

"I'm sorry," she took a deep breath and tried to pull herself together. "I'm so sorry," she shook his hand away and stood up ", I'm supposed to be taking care of you, and…and, how's your head? Aspirin? Yeah. And do you feel like eating?" Ava crossed the floor to the makeshift kitchen and started digging through the mess on the table in search of the aspirin she'd seen Cassie set down two nights before.

"Come back." He didn't raise his voice, but he sounded a little put out, his tone a little hard. "Ava -,"

"Okay," she said, her own voice one of forced politeness, hands shaking stupidly as she picked up the aspirin and fetched him a water bottle from the mini fridge.

"Don't go there," he said as she walked back to the couch, that knowing, penetrating look on his face. His beat-to-a-bloody-pulp face. She sucked in a breath and held it.

"Where?"

"To that place in your head I can't get to." Juice took her wrist in his hand and tugged her down, albeit gently, so she was sitting next to him again. "I got my own trap doors and secret compartments figured out, but yours, they don't make a key for those."

Ava knew that if she didn't remain stubborn, she'd crumble. And for some reason she really wanted to win this internal battle. She managed to get the top off the aspirin and shake three into her palm, hold them out to Juice. He frowned, but swallowed the pills. And then she realized that she was sitting there empty handed with no further safeguards to prevent crumbling.

Carefully, knowing he had to be sore all over, she tucked herself in against his side and put her arm across his chest, her hand on his far shoulder. "I'm trying really hard not to go there." She closed her eyes. "But I can't stop running through the what-if scenarios."

Juice exhaled in one of those lung-emptying, defeated sighs. But it wasn't an unhappy sound: it sounded like she felt, tired and shaky. When he put not just one, but both arms around her and pulled her up in his lap, his chin resting on top of her head, she knew he'd run all those scenarios too that morning, even though he said, "that's no way to live, babe."

"This fucking trip is no way to live. It's been a goddamn nightmare."

"It's been a run instead of a vacation," he agreed. "But you're tougher than this."

Ava nodded, his skin smooth against her cheek. She knew, underneath the encouragement, he was struggling, impatient with yet another of her emotional meltdowns. Logic and a life spent watching Gemma and her mother told her to rein in her tears and move on, pretend this had never happened. But life with Juice told her to share, to bring what was haunting her out into the open so they could both poke at it until it went away.

She sat up and put her palms on his chest, took a deep breath. "When you told me to talk to you, did you mean that?"

He cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowing, and for a moment she thought he'd shut her down. _No, I don't wanna hear about your girl bullshit. _But he said, "yeah…"

"I saw myself," she said before he could change his mind ", saw myself pregnant and burying my man. Again."

She watched his adam's apple bob when he swallowed.

"Juice, I don't want another baby _just _so Sam has a brother or sister. Or because it's about the baby. I want _your_ baby. I want us to be a family -,"

"We_ are_ a family," he interrupted, scowling now. "That's kinda what happens when you _marry_ a person -,"

"I know!" She hadn't meant to shout, really she hadn't, but she had. Ava clapped her hands over her mouth and wished she could take it back. Juice's face had gone blank and she had no idea whether that was a good sign, or if, more likely, he was trying to decide if they could sign divorce papers via iPhone right here and now. "Juice," she pleaded, sliding down onto the floor, her hands on his knees. "God, maybe you should just shoot me before I fuck this up even more. But what I'm trying, poorly, to say is that I want to have a baby with you because I love you so much. And that's why I worry, and fret, and cry like an idiot. You're precious to me, and I want to hold that feeling in my arms and give it a name. I want us to get old and have matching rocking chairs," she was crying again and dabbed at her eyes. "I don't mean to shut you out and act like this. I'm just trying not to bleed all over you like I did before. I want so badly not to be a burden, baby, and I'm failing miserably."

Juice was silent a moment, not looking at her. She watched him swallow again. She ticked the seconds off in her head, waiting, praying. And then he wrapped his hand around hers and urged her back up onto the sofa with him. The arm he put around her shoulders was reassuring, as was the way he trailed his fingers down her bare arm. He leaned his head back against the couch and gave her a very tired, very soft look. "I already signed onto the baby plan, remember?"

She nodded, leaning in closer until their noses were inches apart.

"And you're not failing, so calm down okay?"

She nodded again, but her mouth opened up and more words came pouring out anyway. "I don't want to be my mom, or Gemma. I don't want to make the same old mistakes I did before. God knows we've both got our issues -"

He grinned.

"- but I want, moving forward, for us to be the solid, happy, relatively healthy family I never had growing up. You're the only person in the world who can give that to me, to us, and I'm just trying really hard not to let you down. And I'm trying to talk to you about it instead of just holding it in."

"And I appreciate that…but not at seven a.m. when I've got a massive headache. How'd the conversation even get to this point?"

"Guess I was on a roll."

"Guess so." He sighed, pulled her close, both arms around her again. "How long have I known you?"

"Long time."

"Yeah, and nothing surprises me at this point. I've seen it all, babe, and I bought the whole package. I love you more than anything and I'll help you have fifteen kids if that's what you want. Now, can we please stop talking about this?"

"Gladly." She patted his stomach and slipped out of his embrace, got back to her feet. "I'm gonna get dressed, then you want breakfast?"

But when she looked over her shoulder, she caught his strange expression. "Okay…so not really fifteen. That'd be insane."

Ava grinned. "How 'bout we just start with one and see where that goes."

"Yeah."

"Toast or English muffin?"

**-O-**

"Is that a real gun?"

Kozik was seated at the counter that ran half the length of the diner. He 'd been staring down at the steam rolling over the rim of his coffee cup, but his head snapped up and turned toward the sound of the voice. Off to his left, seated at one of the booths that lined the front wall of the long narrow diner, was a little boy, maybe five or six, staring at him. He had one of those haircuts like his mother had used a cereal bowl as a measurement guide, and what looked like jelly was smeared down the front of his shirt. Typical messy, nosy punk kid. With the exception of about two boys, kids bugged the shit out of him. "What?" he asked, unable to keep the irritation from his voice.

The little boy pointed at Koz. Glancing down, he noticed that his relaxed posture had shifted the hang of his cut, affording the kid a nice view of the hardware he carried in his shoulder holster. He eyed the kid. "Yeah it is." His gaze wandered to the other side of the booth where the kid's mother was busy chatting on her cell phone and not paying her kid a lick of attention.

"You gonna rob the res'rant?"

What the fuck? He grimaced and cleared his throat, attempting to get the attention of the brat's mother. When she continued on with her conversation, oblivious, he shot her a glare. Which she also didn't see. It irritated the shit out of him that she'd ignore her own kid's behavior. Cassie was always super vigilant about keeping tabs on Luc. She toed a tight line, not over bearing, but kept a firm foot down and squashed all bullshit. "No."

"You ever shoot somebody?"

Koz blinked. Seriously? The kid had now completely twisted sideways, was facing the mouth of the booth, legs kicking into the narrow aisle, and thumping back against the bottom of the booth loudly. Mom was still yackin' away, now staring out the front window. Rolling his eyes and downing the last of his coffee, Koz nodded, "yep."

"Really?" the kid answered, wide-eyed and intrigued, voice growing louder. "Like who? Who do you shoot?"

Koz watched Lackadaisical Mom's head snap up. She glanced at her kid and followed his line of sight, stare landing on Koz with, he noted, interest. Disregarding the bitch, he eyed the brat. "Nosey little kids, mostly" he answered with a smirk. The kid's entire demeanor changed, his lip trembling, feet going limp. His mother gasped, so then Koz turned his attention to her. "Discipline isn't child abuse; you should try instilling some. And teach your kid not to talk to strangers. Could be dangerous."

The waitress approached from the other side of the counter, " 'nother cup of coffee, Sugar?"

"Yeah."

**-O-**

She awoke to the sound of crashing waves. Cassie blinked away her grogginess, felt weight return to her limbs. Registered a bright light. Crashing waves? In South Dakota?

And then her surroundings solidified. The chalkboard and the posters on the wall, the American flag, the musty old smell that she thought she'd forgotten, but obviously hadn't. None of the children around her seemed to notice that her knees were jacked up into her chest in the kid-sized desk she was crammed into awkwardly.

"Now, who can tell the class which ocean is closest to South Dakota?" came the voice of her fifth-grade teacher, Ms. Gardenia. Her kind eyes landed on Cassie. "Cassie B. Can you answer for us?

Could she? But she nodded. "Pacific?"

"Correct. And do you recall how far away it is?"

"Fourteen-hundred miles," came a whispered save. Cassie stared at Sarah Niles in the desk in front of her, and when the blonde turned around, she wasn't her sweet, best friend of old, but, rather, Cassie found herself face-to-face with the traitorous bitch who'd ruined her life once before and was rocking the boat yet again. Boat? Water? Waves? "Clueless little Cassie," she _tsk_ed ", when are you gonna wake up?"

"_You need to wake up, Cassandra...That man is the wrong kind of paradise... Mark my words, he was born to be a leaver_." She knew she was sitting in her mother's kitchen judging by the familiar pattern of the ceramic floor tiles. Try as she might, she couldn't pull her eyes from the tips of her shoes, couldn't make eye contact with Dinah. Her shoulders were slumped, too tired for another debate about Michael Purcell. She stared at her shoes. They were bugging her. The shoes. Something was odd about the shoes. Red suede heels. She'd just purchased them back in July. Perfect for the big Independence Day bash at the club house and the little nothing of a dress she'd bought to go out with Koz. Celebrate his birthday. She smiled at the memory of his appreciation of her ensemble._ "Good thing I've got a strong ticker sweet heart, cause that shit right there is heart attack inducing." _Dinah-Ma couldn't be going on about Mike…she was with Koz now…which meant… her mom was trash talking Koz? She was overwhelmed with sadness as the image faded, leaving behind only her mother's voice. _"From the word 'go', Cassie... he's been destined to deceive you." _

"The Magician," the heavily accented voice of the cleric – Mama – cut through the darkness. The scent of incense was borne out of nothingness, suddenly so strong it felt like it was choking her. "Skillful, self-confident and powerful." Cassie felt a panic rise within her. "Someone in your life, child?" the woman asked. "Sometimes we're too close to judge our own lives. And the Magician is a master of his trade of trickery and deceit... gaining confidence, taking a toll and moving on. Exercise caution, Cassie." A face appeared in the gloom: dark and round, heavy coal lines drawn around the eyes. Cassie stared at her.

"I never told you my name. How do ...?"

She watched the woman slowly shake her head to and fro, beaded chandelier earrings rattling. "Who do you think you're talking too, child?"

Cassie watched the woman flip over the next card and the image on it became her reality in an instant. The crashing waves returned. She had a bird's eye view of the tower perched on the edge of a rocky shore, the waves foaming and lapping at its base, the spray shooting ten, fifteen, twenty feet in the air. Lightning cleaved the dark sky, thunder boomed, and there were the two figures, plummeting down toward the churning sea.

"The Tower card. A war card. Like a flash of lightning, Truth comes suddenly, child, a truth that will leave you shaken, torn down, blown asunder. Nothing built on lies can withstand. Be prepared for difficulty, because, my child, it's time to wake up..."

Suddenly the roar of waves and thunder was deafening. Cassie was outside, wind whipping at her, goose flesh pebbling her arms. When a flash of lightning illuminated her surroundings, the sight took her breath away. She was standing on the ledge of the tower, the tower from the tarot card, and before she had time to contemplate what that meant, Sarah was in front of her, sneering. "Clueless," she hissed, then was gone as quickly as she'd appeared.

The wind picked up with a howl, buffeting her, sent her staggering forward a step. _Wake up, _she swore it moaned to her.

_Tresor _by Lancome preceded a visual of Dinah-Ma, who suddenly stood before her daughter, looking pained. "Destined to be deceived , again," she reminded Cassie, leaving little doubt this time. She was talking about her present man. Koz.

"Wake Up!" someone shouted.

"My third ghost, I presume," Cassie muttered, as she heard Mama's jewelry rattling again.

The mystic ignored her sarcasm. "Trickery and deceit," she said once more. "Be wary."

Sarah's laughter echoed around her. "Clue-less!" the bitch chanted. "Clueless, clueless."

_Wake up!_

She heard her mother. "Born to leave."

_Wake up!_

"Takes a toll and moves on," the dark-skinned cleric added to the verbal assault.

_Wake up!_

"Cassie, wake up." A hand grazed her shoulder and she whirled, stumbling against the rickety wooden railing that kept her from tumbling through the crenellations in the tower's parapet. The rail groaned in protest. Crack. It started to give way, her feet slipped on the wet stones and she felt herself start to fall. "Cass." Koz was standing in front of her, slightly out of focus, and she reached desperately for the hand he offered. But the rail split with a sound like a gunshot and he made no move to grab her as she tumbled, in slow motion, over the edge and out into the open air. Falling…falling…falling…

"_Cass, wake up!"_

She jolted awake, lungs as tight as if there were fists closed around them, heart racing. She sucked in a deep, rattling breath, and then another, and as the black spots faded from behind her eyes, she saw that she was really and truly awake this time. She was in the motel room, alive, safe, alone, the bed empty beside her, the whole room empty, really. The bathroom door stood ajar, darkened, empty also. When her breathing had slowed and her limbs felt sturdy enough, Cassie slipped out of bed, pulling the top sheet along and wrapping it around herself. Koz and all traces of him were gone from the room

_Born to be a leaver... _

Stumbling over the sheet that dragged along with her, she went to the door and flung it open. Cassie stood staring at the empty section of parking lot in front of their unit.

Nothing was making sense... Koz would never leave her in the middle of Bumfuck, South Dakota...would he?

_Master of Trickery _

Her stomach clenched for what seemed like the hundredth time in the past two days and when she felt bile start to rise in the base of her throat, she knew there was no swallowing it down this time. She slammed the door and rushed to the bathroom.

When the meager contents of her stomach had been expelled, between the obnoxious sounds of two false alarm dry heaves, she heard the door to the main room open and close.

"Cass?" Koz called out to her.

Christ, just the sound of his voice made her feel better. She slumped down onto the floor beside the toilet, hugged her knees with one arm and reached up to flush the toilet with the other. She managed a halfhearted, nauseas smile as Koz's tall frame filled the doorway. But he didn't smile back: instead, let his eyes wander over the scene, a muscle in his cheek twitching.

"You a'ight?"

"Sure." She closed the toilet lid and got shakily to her feet, repositioning her sheet wrap as she went to the sink. She stripped the plastic sleeve off one of the two paper cups housekeeping had set out and filled it with water, rinsed her mouth out. "Where'd you go?" When he didn't answer, she glanced at him via the mirror, and saw that he was staring at the toilet, worry lines creasing his brow. "What?"

"Not feeling well?" when his eyes swung over to meet hers, they were filled with something she hadn't expected, at least not after their morning together: suspicion.

"My nerves are shot and the lack of food is screwing up my blood sugar, making me nauseas." But she could tell, though he heard her, he wasn't internalizing the words. His expression had become thunderous, face a closed-off mask, and suddenly she knew the conclusion his mind had jumped to when he'd found her. "Word to the wise," she said, anger bubbling up inside her ", a girl can puke and not be pregnant. And contrary to the name, morning sickness is not limited to the hours preceding noon."

He didn't respond, which irritated her further – confirmed that he didn't believe her – so she squeezed past him out into the room, going to the dresser where she'd left her knapsack. She located one of the Wisps disposable toothbrushes in the bottom of the bag and went back to the bathroom, not making eye contact. "Why would that even be your first thought? Seriously, Zeke? Come on! You've made it perfectly damn clear how you feel about adding to the Kozik family tree. I get it. And I've got my hands full with Lucas." Still no response. She swabbed the Wisp around in her mouth and glared at him through the mirror. "You've been paying for my birth control. What do you think I did? Forego the Depo-Provera and spend the money on the new Marc Jacobs' bag?" She trashed the pretend toothbrush and felt herself becoming more agitated by the second.

He ran a hand through his hair and locked eyes with her reflection. "What did you want me to think? It certainly explains your sudden rush for a concrete commitment outta me. Your whole 'let's shack up' request outta the goddamn blue."

She spun around. "Are you fucking kidding me?" Her stomach fisted up again. "I'd never lie to you about something important like that. I've been nothing but open, and look where it's gotten me: accusations and allegations. Thanks a lot. Besides, the last thing I need is another baby daddy who isn't planning on sticking around."

They'd had fights, and they'd thrown verbal barbs, but she'd never accused him of such before. And when his eyes widened and his jaw clenched, she realized she'd tapped into a dark, angry place inside him. And was too mad to care. "The fuck's that supposed to mean?" he demanded.

"You met my 'shack up request' with a look like I'd shot your favorite dog in front of you. Either you have the guts to take the risk, or you don't -,"

"Guts?" he was incredulous, took a threatening step toward her. "It's called being caught off guard." His eyes narrowed. "But let's get one thing straight. If you don't think I take care of my responsibilities, then you obviously still don't know dick about me. Here's _my_ word to the wise, there are more consequences to playin' house with me than you fuckin' think. You think the last day and a half have been stress ridden, let me tell you something, you don't know stress. Ex-in-laws and asshole wannabe clubs ain't the only ones known to threaten family, use kids, personal freedom, hard-won livelihoods as potential leverage. Feds love to push buttons. You're tied to me, your name and everything about you goes on a list somewhere, innocuous or not, they'll have your number." He shook his head, nostrils flared. "The club has _real_ enemies. And I've witnessed blatant disregard for targeting innocent. I know…I've _seen_ your willingness to do whatever it takes to protect your kid."

Her fragile emotional state was full of cracks, and his speech had turned those cracks to gaping chasms. "You!" she fumed, teeth clacking together she was so upset. "You…you have no right to question my loyalty!" She shook her finger in his face and this time she was the one taking aggressive steps forward, eyes shooting daggers. "I'd expect that, honor it even, from _any_one but you! Ava, Juice, Jax, hell, even Glen or Snapper or…or…_anyone but you! Ten months, Koz_!"

He held up a hand. "Cass-,"

"Shut up! I'm not done!" She took a deep breath and let it out in a rush, but it did nothing to help her composure. So she glared at him instead. "_You_ knew from the very second we met that I have a son. You saw Lucas first that day at the hardware store. _You_ were the one who took us to Dave & Busters for that first date when the sitter couldn't make it. _You've_ played Legos, Matchbox cars, endured countless stupid kid jokes, held my hand at the hospital while his leg was being operated on." Tears clouded her vision. "And now ten months later you want to act like he's a liability? Fuck you! The time for_ this_ has _long_ since passed. Before I let you in here."

She pointed to her head, hand trembling with an overwhelming mixture of pain and fury. "Or here." She saw his eyes follow her hands as she cupped her crotch, which, for some reason, made her all the madder. She slapped a hand over her left breast, voice cracking. "Before I let you in here."

Mike would have long since slapped the shit out of her. Koz probably had even more of a right to. She could feel her tears threatening to spill over, which pissed her off, because they were angry tears, not sad ones. "And if you think those are the worst things," she pressed on, voice a quivering, shaky mess. "Then _you_ don't know _dick_ about _me_! The fact that I let you in Luc's life, that he is gonna be hurt by this…" she closed her mouth before she could damn him any further.

When he didn't respond; didn't hit her, spit on her, grab a fistful of her hair and drag her over to the bed, Cassie slipped past him, dropping the sheet along the way. She tugged her clothes back on, fumbling at buckles and buttons.

Koz finally cleared his throat. "Where you goin'?"

"For a walk," she said, slipping into her jacket. She slammed the door on her way out.

**-O-**

Juice wasn't sure what had awakened him. It was still dark, moonlight shimmering through the cheap curtains of the cabin's bedroom. Ava was still asleep beside him: as always, the farthest from the door, sheltered on the other side of his body, hair across her face and hands curled up beneath her chin like the sweet little fairy he sometimes wished she was. But everything was quiet. He couldn't detect any reason why he would have…

A shadow coalesced at the foot of the bed. A man-shaped shadow.

Juice levered upright in the bed in a heartbeat, drawing the nine from beneath his pillow. His hand was on the slide before the shadow leaned forward, black, featureless hands clasping the iron footboard, and his face entered the shaft of moonlight like the fin of a shark breaching the water's surface.

His skin was the color of the moon, cold and dead. Shadows carved the always harsh planes and angles of his brow and jaw in a haunting, skeletal way. And his eyes were a freakish, glowing red, the pupils black and darker even than the night around them. They glowed, those eyes. And Juice couldn't even take a breath, much less speak to the revenant who stood at the foot of their bed.

_Christ, Hap, no…_he thought, and wasn't sure if it was a case of mourning for the monster, or wanting him to stay away.

The Happy-thing leaned lower, dead muscles bunching up, mouth falling open to reveal white, wolfish teeth. His red eyes went to the slight, sleeping shape in the bed next to him – to Ava, who stirred and murmured something, her fingers curling.

_No! _He wanted to scream but had no voice. _You were my friend, my brother, I didn't wish you dead. _Happy-thing made a sound like metal scraping over rock. Almost a growl. _I love her now and you can't have her back. And Sam…Sam is mine now. We're gonna have a baby. Please, please, I love her. I fought for her and she's MINE!_

He jackknifed upright, sucking in a huge, terrified breath. And that was when Juice realized that there was no Happy-thing at the end of the bed, that he wasn't even in bed, but reclined on the sofa in the middle of the cabin. And that Ava was asleep on his stomach, or at least, had been. He'd sort of tossed her to the other end of the couch.

"What?" her voice was groggy as she sat up beside him.

He was drenched in sweat, clothes clinging to his skin, beads of perspiration rolling down the back of his neck. His hands were fisted up so hard his fingers were numb. He released the death grip and exhaled loudly. "Sorry." His voice felt tight. "Just a…thing."

The couch springs groaned. "A nightmare?"

He licked his dry lips and didn't comment.

Ava's hand was cool when it stroked down the back of his head, so was her forehead when he felt it against his cheek. "Musta been a bad one," she said in a quiet, understanding tone.

"Yeah."

As his heart rate slowed, he let reality pour over him; took in the main room of the cabin and the gray, dim light that filtered through the windows. Light flashed, brilliant and white, and then thunder tore open the heavens above them. That was when he realized it was raining, the sound a steady drumming on the roof. "Is it storming?"

"Apparently." Ava made a leisurely show of stretching and getting to her feet, knuckling the kinks out of her lower back. She was barefoot and in jeans, a plain grey tank top. She still wore all of his rings around her neck and they clicked together softly as she walked to the front window and peered out, her complexion washed an eerie hue in the gray storm light coming in through the glass. "Wow," she murmured. "This is the worst one yet."

_Idiot, _he scolded himself for having such a ridiculous nightmare. He'd had it before, off and on since Happy's death, and each time he'd awakened with this helpless, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. And even after he'd calmed down, which he had now, was breathing normally and no longer frightened of zombie vampires with fangs, he always asked himself the same question. Was it terrible to have gained such happiness, his own family, at the death of one of his brothers?"

"I think I'm starting to like storms," she said, turning away from the window to smile at him, little white teeth gleaming. "They're kind of our thing, ya know?"

And like always, the question dissolved into something that didn't matter: he lived in the here and now, and his girl was smiling again. "Yeah," he smiled back. "I guess they are."

**-O-**

The thunder had gone from the deep, pensive rolling growl that was almost soothing in its monotony, to insistent, powerful blasts that boomed like cannon blasts and rattled the windows in the cabin. Ava had gone from feeling slightly bummed that the rain had kept them indoors, to now grateful that they hadn't decided to brave the storm because now, it was biblically strong. The cloud cover was too dark to allow for reading, so Ava sat on the couch, legs curled up beneath her with Juice trying to doze beside her. Poor baby, he felt like shit, and the pain meds Tara had given them – hadn't been remembered until after he'd downed the aspirin.

"I don't even know where anyone is," she said between claps of thunder. "Tara and Janine aren't answering their phones."

"Hmm," he answered without interest, was only acknowledging that she'd spoken.

"Maybe we should -,"

The door crashed open, bringing with it a blaze of lightning and two dripping wet intruders who stumbled into the room. The door was shut and they were shaking the water off themselves like dogs before Ava realized that it was Carter and his new little girlfriend Mia who'd come barging in. Another bolt of lightning turned the inside of the cabin to noon beneath a cloudless sky and Mia yelped.

"Shit," Carter muttered, shucking his cut and sweatshirt. "It's a goddamn hurricane out there."

"Hurricanes don't form on dry land," Juice muttered.

"Well forgive me for not being married and bored and watching the Weather Channel for fun."

"Guys," Ava looked between them – Juice had his eyes closed, head tipped back on the sofa – ", seriously?" She shook her head, turning her attention back to the newcomers. "What were you doing out in it?"

"We went for a ride and thought we could make it back."

She had to grin, they looked cute together, even as bedraggled as they were. "Good call."

"No kidding."

Mia pushed her sopping hair over her shoulder and it landed against her back with a loud _smack_. She made an apologetic face. "You wouldn't happen to have a towel I could borrow, could you?"

"Bathroom. I'm not sure we're even keeping track of whose is whose anymore, so have at 'em."

When Carter took a step toward the couch, Juice moved: stretched out with his head against the opposite arm and his bare feet in Ava's lap, an arm over his eyes.

"He's cranky cause his head hurts," she explained in a stage-whisper and he wiggled his toes at her in protest.

That changed Carter's attitude a little, blonde brows lifting in sudden remembrance. He sat down on the floor and started unlacing his boots. "So where's everyone else? I thought they'd be back at camp with this storm."

"I dunno," Ava said with a little sigh. "I've tried Tara and Janine and…shit, Koz and Cassie took off on his bike last night. God knows where those two ended up. Lemme call him."

And then it started hailing.

**-O-**

In between two deafening claps of thunder, Koz heard a new sound: the patter of hail stones against the window. He shoved off the end of the bed, again, as he'd done fifty times before, and stalked to the big picture window that overlooked the parking lot. The drapes – both the white sheer and the heavy wannabe green velvets – had been flung aside before and were still gapped, he was able to set the heels of his hands against the glass and gaze through the falling curtain of water out into the storm-ravaged world. Pea-sized nuggets of hail were pinging down on top of the cars, and his bike, making him want to flinch when they struck just on the other side of the window from his face. Jagged bolts of lightning cleaved the sky beneath heavy, black clouds. It was a beast of a storm, one that put the Tacoma rain showers to shame.

Cass had been gone longer than he would have liked. When she'd slipped through the door to their room, he'd been both enraged that she'd actually walk away from him, and satisfied that he'd zinged her back effectively after he'd walked in to find her puking and up in arms over his accusations. He had to ask, didn't he? Wouldn't be the first time a chick got herself knocked up on purpose.

But really, deep down, she knew that wasn't true of her. Ten months had taught him that she wasn't that type of woman. And that to suggest such was tantamount to any insult he could have tossed at her. Regardless, they'd needed space. This had been the most fucked-up week, had put an undue amount of strain on them individually, and jointly. So he'd let her walk – at least he'd like to think of it as_ letting_ rather than her refusing to come back. But now an end-of-the-world storm was turning Sturgis into a scene from _The Day After Tomorrow_, and Cassie was out there in it.

He turned around and ran his hand through his ruined hair again, pacing the length of the room like he'd been doing for twenty minutes. The TV was on, but it hadn't been a distraction. The thunder was so loud it couldn't be heard anyway.

"What the fuck, Cass?" he grumbled to himself and kicked the leg of the TV stand. He hated keeping still, waiting like this. He needed to _do_ something. And if and when Cassie reappeared, that frustration might get vented in her direction again.

The pounding of the rain and hail intensified behind him and he spun around to be slapped in the face by a gust of warm wind flecked with raindrops. Cassie darted inside and slammed the door behind her, exhaled loudly and leaned back against it. She was soaked, and that didn't even begin to cover her current state. Her jeans were molded to her body, a second skin, and water ran off her leather jacket in little rivers. Her hair was plastered to her head, and neck, and side of her face, nose and cheeks rosy, though he wasn't sure if that was from the wind, or residual after-effects of their argument.

"Jesus Christ!"

She reached to brush hair off her forehead and blood smeared across her skin.

"You're bleeding."

"It's hailing."

"I noticed." He sighed. "What the fuck were you thinking?"

"At the time, I was thinking you were an asshole and I had to get away from you because the very sight of you was making me want to hurl. Unrelated to pregnancy," bitterness tinged her words.

"I think I got that."

He watched her shoulders slump as she pushed off the door and went to sit on the end of the bed closest to the door. "I can't do this anymore, Zeke," she murmured, attempting to smooth her hair with one hand while the other stayed curled around her middle, almost protectively. "I just…"

Any other time he would have held his tongue, thankful that she always chose to play things so close to the vest. But he was done with the bullshit today. "What? Just spit it out."

"I don't want to fight anymore," she sounded totally defeated. "I -," the front of her jacket moved and a high-pitched cry filled the room.

Koz felt his brows leap up his forehead. "What the hell?"

"Shh, it's alright, baby," Cassie said sweetly, obviously not talking to him. She ran down the zipper on her jacket, reached between its halves and withdrew something that looked like a drowned Muppet. The tiny little orange ball of fluff squirmed in her hands and she snuggled it up under her chin, cooing to it.

"What…where'd you get a _cat_?"

She didn't answer at first, instead took off her jacket and went to the bathroom, returning with the kitten wrapped up in a towel in her arms. "It's just a baby. I found it about a mile down the road. I was rushing back when the hail started, heard him…or her, crying. The mama cat and two other kittens were dead, not sure what happened, but this little thing was trying to find its way out of the storm."

"Seriously? You just picked up the stray?"

"I couldn't just leave it there," she protested, gently rubbing the thing dry with the towel. "If the weather didn't kill it, then how's it supposed to get food? Some predator could have snapped it up, or it could have been hit by a car."

He couldn't help it: he laughed. "What are you gonna do with it, Cass? We're in the middle of a goddamn rally."

"I dunno. Find an SPCA. There's got to be an animal shelter around here. But I won't let it die on the side of the road."

"Cassie…" he was interrupted by his cell coming to life in his pocket and he was grateful for the distraction. "It's Ava, I gotta take this. But this conversation isn't over."

**-O-**

Cassie finger-combed her wet hair and gave her reflection a stern look. A shower had helped – had warmed her back up and put some color in her cheeks. But it had only soothed her nerves somewhat. Things were better than before she'd stormed out, but he'd left her with "this conversation isn't over" before she'd slunk off to the bathroom so he could handle his phone call in private. With a deep breath, she cinched her towel up under her arms one more time, picked up the kitten who was curled up on the bathroom floor in a clean towel, and returned to the main room.

Koz was stretched out on one of the beds, hands folded over his chest, staring at the ceiling. She halted about a foot away, cradling her new baby. "Ava alright? Juice?" she ventured.

"Yeah. Says Juice has a headache."

"That's gotta be the understatement of the week."

"She was just checkin' in. With this monsoon, she was worried about us."

Cassie sighed. "Me too."

He sat up, raked a hand through his hair, and gave her a guarded, though not unkind look. "Yeah?"

She nodded. "We both said some nasty shit. I love you, but for a minute there, I didn't like you very much."

He nodded too. "Fair enough." And then he patted the bed beside him, heaving a tired sigh that seemed to take the tension out of his face at last. When she didn't sit right away, his mouth twitched to the side in an expression that could only be described as relaxed. "Relax." She sat. "You're fine. I said some shit that probably coulda been worded better. But what I said was true: there's a big difference between you bein' my Ol' Lady instead of just my girlfriend. Your name gets put a list that every fed and small town fuckhead cop has a copy of, and being tied to someone like me doesn't make life easier." His head turned and when his eyes met hers, he was deadly serious. "But it was never about me not trusting you. If it was, we wouldn't have lasted one month, let alone ten."

Why couldn't you have just said that to begin with? She wanted to ask, but knew better. The lump in her throat loosened a little regardless. "I guess I can appreciate the buffer. I know you're looking out for Luc and me. And, honestly…let's just forget what I said. At least until later. I'm just hoping I can make it through Sturgis in one piece at this point."

"Yeah I know," he agreed. He surprised her when he put an arm around her waist and pulled her up against his side. "Old dogs learning new tricks and all that. It's not easy."

So shocked to hear him – not just as a man, but as himself – admit that something didn't come easily, she let the kitten sneak out of her lap, and right into Koz's.

He looked like he wanted to throw the poor thing down on the floor, but instead he said ", not exactly my kind of threesome."

It felt so good when a laugh bubbled up out of her throat. "Just a couple new tricks," she assured him, taking the kitten back ", 'cause this girl loves her old dog pretty much as is."

**TBC**


	12. Black Hills Interrogation

**AN: **Reaper and I thank you in advance for your patience in waiting for this installment. We've been busy and, well, Sutter threw a considerable damper on things. BUT, thank goodness for non-canon, yes? We can't stress enough how NON-CANON this story is! But you guys already knew that. Thanks so much for reviews; they make us want to keep writing. And Happy Thanksgiving!

…

**12. Black Hills Interrogation**

"On the ground! Both of you, on the ground and drop the weapon!"

This was so not happening. In any second, he'd wake up, sit up on his lumpy-ass pullout sofa bed and rub the sleep out of his eyes. Because Koz refused to believe that this was actually happening.

But Juice came running up and stumbled to a halt beside him, one of the cops turning around at the noise he'd made, hand upraised in a "stay back" gesture. "Jesus Christ," the nerd said on a sharp inhale. "What the shit?"

Ava had heard him and her head snapped up as she lifted both her arms over her head. She dropped the plastic object in her hand – Koz realized it was a Taser – and the nearest cop kicked it away, grabbed her wrist and shoved her down to the grass.

"Hey!" Juice again, sounding panicked.

Koz locked eyes with Cassie. _Wake up now. Come on, jackass, time to wake up_. But nothing like that happened. Instead he watched his girl give him an apologetic look as she sank to her knees beside Ava and then did a voluntary face-plant at the cop's not-so-gentle urging.

Aggression surged through him. The badges were the only things saving the pigs from a royal ass-beating as the patted down his girl roughly and fitted a zip tie around her wrists that bit into her skin. His hands curled into fists. How the hell had this happened? Cassie under arrest was something he was having trouble comprehending. Of course, if you added the beers they'd had at the concert, and Ava…

Then he saw the other girls. A third cop was talking to two skinny blondes and a big brunette over beside the porta-johns, all three of them running fingers through snarled hair, messy, mascara-blackened tears leaving tracks down their cheeks. One of them was shaking like she had a palsy – the one who'd been Tased obviously. And one, he realized with a deep, defeated sigh, was Cassie's former-best-friend Sarah.

Suddenly it made perfect sense. And he felt more than a little bad for Little Bit as she was hauled to her feet beside his Old Lady. Sarah and her bitches had made the attack. Ava had leapt to Cassie's defense.

"Ava Rae," Juice groaned to himself. "Good damn we didn't spend any more on souvenirs. I'm gonna need bail money."

**-O-**

Either life was just a series of bad practical jokes, or some of Mama's predictive powers were rubbing off on her, because Cassie was living her nightmare from that morning. Sturgis was overflowing with drunks and brawlers, too many for the precinct's holding cells to accommodate, so the local elementary school had been locked down and the classrooms were being used as cells, rent-a-cops stationed at the doors as guards.

In this particular "cell", the little desks and chairs had been cleared out, Army surplus cots set up instead without blankets or pillows. But the chalkboard, alphabet flashcards taped to the wall amongst the inspirational posters and map of the world were comical reminders that this was no real jail. Sarah and her cohorts were next door, but still, the irony of the two of them in classrooms was not lost on Cassie. In with the SOA Old Ladies, the other women were an odd mix of two drunk chicks, a very angry-looking, thick-set woman who'd obviously ridden her own bike to the rally sans man, and a voluptuous, skimpily-dressed blonde with age lines beneath her makeup.

She'd never been behind bars before. She'd come close a time or two in her Top Cay days, so it now seemed fitting that as she stared at the toes of her boots on the white tile floor, leaned back against the wall behind her cot beside Ava, the Top Cays were somehow responsible for her current predicament.

The afternoon had been going so well. Once the storms had fully cleared out and the last of the clouds had scuttled away over the horizon, the rally had come back to life. Damaged signage, bikes and bar fronts had left some events cancelled, others not nearly so crowded as they might have been, and Cass and Koz had been part of the SOA group that attended the Marshall Tucker cover band concert. After an hour of singing along and drinking, she and Ava had teamed up for a trip to the long double row of port-a-potties at the edge of the field. The place had been crawling with cops and they were well within sight of the guys, so neither had been worried or had felt unsafe. A big mirror had been propped up against the rear fender of a truck and the women were touching up lipstick and fixing their hair in front of it while they waited in line. Cassie had been adjusting her scarf when she recognized Sarah's reflection beside her own.

The blonde had been sporting a freshly split lip. A little gift from Deacon no doubt. "You stuck-up bitch," she'd hissed. "Not so tough without your man, huh?" and before Cass had been able to form a response, Sarah had grabbed her ponytail and slammed her face against the mirror.

The glass hadn't cracked, but she'd felt instant swelling across the bridge of her nose and around her eye sockets. Cassie had struck back, caught the bitch with an elbow to the windpipe, and then it was Sarah's turn to stagger away. That's when Cassie saw the two friends, nameless, faceless Top Cay hangarounds. Ava had stepped out of one of the port-a-potties, taken one look at the situation, and pulled something out of her boot. Cass had remembered the knife she'd wanted to take to Juice's opponent and panic closed up her throat, but the device had proven to be a Taser, and one of Sarah's friends got the prongs jammed against the side of her neck before Ava thumbed the button and sent the big brunette down to the ground like a stiff wooden plank.

Then the cops had shown up. And then the guys had shown up. Not her finest hour.

She winced as she touched her cheek, the flesh tender. She huffed out a tired breath that ruffled the hair that had slipped loose of her elastic band. "I wonder how much more of this shit Koz can take from me," she muttered more to herself, half forgetting she wasn't alone on the cot.

Ava chuckled and it had an empty, defeated edge to it. Like nothing was funny but she'd felt compelled to laugh regardless. "If Juice hasn't filed for an iDivorce after the past two days, then you and Koz are fine."

But Cassie didn't see the humor. Or maybe she was just afraid to. "We aren't exactly in the same situation."

"True."

"And Koz is very different from Juice."

"Also true." Ava stifled a yawn against the back of her hand. "But I do happen to know both of them very well."

It felt like a bit of a trap, like Ava trying again to rub in the fact that she had years and years of background with the men in this club while Cassie was the outsider trying to find her footing. But when she glanced over, she saw the young brunette picking at her nail polish, completely relaxed and somewhat innocent.

"Juice is a lover, not a fighter. If anything, he's too patient. I swear he thinks I'm the ultimate puzzle he can't crack, and that's what keeps him interested. But Koz? Complete one-eighty. If Koz couldn't take 'the shit'," she went on ", he'd leave in a heartbeat. No long goodbye. No explanation. He's not the type to stick around 'cause he'd feel guilty for leaving." Ava gave a look that could only be described as supportive. "Granted, your past has proved a lot more complicated than he, or any of us, thought, but he's not going anywhere." She shrugged. "Unless of course I'm totally wrong."

"Do you think you're totally wrong?"

"Not about this."

"That's good."

They lapsed into silence again. The second hand on the classroom's clock ticked loudly. One of the drunks was snoring. Their guard's surly face appeared in the chicken-wire reinforced window of the door as per routine.

"So," Cassie was fine with comfortable silences, but this one wasn't there yet. "I've never been, um, arrested before. What about you?"

Ava snorted. "First time was for rolling a house when I was sixteen. Juice and I got busted together."

For the first time since they'd been scooped up, she smiled. "Hardened criminal helping a high schooler pull a prank?"

"Something like that. But it wasn't nearly so satisfying as clocking an ex's bimbo in the throat."

Cassie's smile widened. "I think I might have almost killed her."

"Good." Ava held out a flat palm for a low-five and Cass obliged. "Juice dated a Sarah for a while," she explained with a grimace. "She was a blonde bitch too."

They shared a look, and then burst into simultaneous laughter that drew glances from their fellow prisoners. The door opened and the cop poked his head in.

"What's goin' on in here?"

"You gonna up the charges if we laugh?" Ava asked. He scowled and ducked out again. She took a deep breath, calming some, and became serious. "Cassie," her voice shifted into official territory. "I'm…" she took another deep breath, like whatever she was trying to say wasn't coming easy ", I'm sorry. For being such a bitch. I'm -,"

"Insanely protective," Cassie supplied. She sighed. "I get it. I really do."

"Every single person I love, my whole family, is tied to this club. And cynicism is what keeps us alive. Old habits die hard, even when it comes to someone like you." She let her head thump back against the wall, staring off into near space. "Sometimes one member's problems become club problems. Watching out for your loved ones goes to a whole other level."

"I get that too," Cassie said. And she did. She'd understood, at least she thought she had, before coming to Sturgis, but the past few days had shown her the way a single event could send shock waves rippling through all of SOA. "Thank you." She offered a heartfelt smile. Over the past few days, she'd seen that Ava was one of those people who covered worry with an overabundance of pride. And it wasn't the kind of pride that was set aside easily. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry too. I really, really, really didn't want to fuck up this week. And damn if I didn't anyway."

Ava shrugged. "I've been wanting to try out my Taser on someone anyway." Which started them chuckling again. "Which I sure as shit hope they give me back. That was a gift."

Cassie smoothed her hair. "Same with my scarf." She made a face at the notion of what the rubber band they'd let her use was doing to her hair. Forget one of the nice, cotton-wrapped, Ouchless bands she had in her bag at the cabin. This was a literal rubber band. "Do they honestly think I'm gonna hang myself over this goddamn scuffle?"

Ava reached toward her neck, a reflexive habit of fingering the rings she wore Cassie guessed. "Fuckin' cops."

They lapsed into silence again, albeit much more comfortably.

After a moment, Ava said, "I'm not gonna be able to sleep."

"Me neither."

"Game?"

Cassie grinned. "I-Spy the prison edition?"

Ava smiled back. "I was thinking Twenty Questions, the hard truth edition. Whatever you wanna ask me, and whatever I wanna ask you, nothing's off the table."

She contemplated a moment, then decided that, since the olive branch was not only being extended, but was smacking her over the head, she might as well take hold of it. "Deal."

**-O-**

For as smart as she was - the girl was full of literary analysis and the histories of Victorian painters, understood just how dark and bleak the world could be - Ava would forever be unable to control her own impulses and actions. She had zero emotional intelligence. Though that would, and did, irritate most men, Juice had always found it endearing. Her handicap leveled the playing field between them, put them on similar levels of social retardation. But tonight, just once, he wished his wife could be a little more composed, because then he wouldn't be walking away from the Sturgis PD precinct empty-handed while his Old Lady was sitting prisoner inside some damn elementary school classroom somewhere.

"Well?" Koz demanded when he drew closer to the few Sons the cops hadn't chased away out on the sidewalk.

"Can't bail 'em out till morning," he said glumly. "They're trying to pin Ava with aggravated assault cause of the Taser."

"That's bullshit," Chibs said and spat on the sidewalk for emphasis.

"Yeah, well, good luck on those other chicks dropping the charges. "

"Nobody's gettin' pinned with nothin'," RJ said. He fired up a smoke, shielding his lighter with a cupped hand as a breeze whistled through the PD parking lot. "As many idiots as they've hauled in this week, a goddamn cat fight isn't worth the time and effort to the piss-ant Sturgis judicial system."

Hope blossomed anew in Juice's mind. "Yeah," he nodded. "They don't even have enough cells."

"Pay a fine, slap on the wrist." Chibs shrugged. "Aye. They ain't gonna do time." He reached up and thumped Juice in the arm. "Just not a good week to be an Ortiz, huh, Juicy-boy?"

**-O-**

"…nunchucks when I was nine, a paintball gun when I was eleven. There may have been a knife in my stocking that year too." Ava had her head turned to the side and could see the wistful, sad smile that tugged at Cassie's lips. She faced the opposite wall as she spoke about her father. "He taught me to shoot; we had this old Colt revolver he let me practice with. The man should have had a son. He woulda been so good with Luc…" her smile faltered. "Then again, if he'd been alive, there never would have been a Luc. Papa would have shipped me off to a nunnery when I showed up with Mike."

_Well if Mike was anything like his brother…_but Ava kept her tongue in check. Diplomacy still wasn't one of her strong suits, so she was doing a lot of listening. "He would have loved his grandson regardless though."

"Yeah." The smile came back. For a moment. "After Dad died, I just…I dunno. It messed me up. Maybe it was the way he died. But I missed him so much. And watching Mom deal with it…had circumstances been different, well, let's just say this week would have been a lot different."

Ava made a sound of disagreement in the back of her throat. "What's supposed to happen happens," she said with conviction, because, over the past few months, she'd started believing that again. Cassie gave her a curious look. "Things you curse have a way of turning into things you're not sure how you ever did without. No dead dad, no Mike, no Luc." Cassie blinked. "That came out wrong. It's not that you're _glad_ the bad shit happened. But could you imagine life without your kid?"

"Not at all."

Ava nodded. Then shook herself loose. She was starting to sound like her therapist. "Okay, too deep. Your turn."

She debated a moment, eyes making another pass around the room. Her question, when it came, wasn't unexpected. "What was Koz like with you? I mean, I know he's not your actual uncle. But you wouldn't know that just to watch you guys."

"Oh, Uncle Koz," Ava chuckled. "I wore him down…"

**-O-**

"Seriously?"

"He even had a nice shirt on." Cassie laughed at the memory of Koz looking so out of place in when he'd picked her up the night of their first on-the-books date. "You should have seen this place he took me to; a converted meat packing plant."

"Oh, I can imagine the jokes."

"Very chic," Cassie went on, shaking her head. "Obviously, someone else suggested it because I can tell you Kozik doesn't frequent places like this. The tables and the wine and the overall…hipster snottiness of the place? So not Koz."

Ava had started laughing when Cassie had relayed their first date that had turned into a trip with Luc to Dave & Buster's because all her possible babysitters had been busy. And at this point, she was wiping her eyes and having trouble breathing. "I'm sorry, it's not that funny, but -,"

"It kinda is, isn't it?"

She nodded and regained her composure. "I'm so impressed he even knew that he had to take you on a date, you know. And didn't just try to drag you to a club party that first night."

"I take it 'dating' isn't what goes on in the MC world." Cass knew the truth to that, but it was fun to push a little bit, see to what extent the Charming Old Lady could support what she'd already witnessed.

"Not really, no. I think it's almost more personal than that."

Which was funny, because she'd thought the same thing. She nodded. "Koz and I went out a few times – hell, his crew replaced the windows in the bank where I work and we had lunch together for a week before he asked me out. But it was always…I dunno. More intimate than that whole awkward first date scenario. More intense." Ava nodded. "I may not want the answer to this, but…when I came around, I got the distinct impression Koz doesn't have a habit of bringing people – women – to Janine's Sunday dinners."

"I don't know how daily life in Tacoma has gone for him over the years. But let's just say, prior to you, he'd never mentioned anyone special in his life."

Cass snorted. "No pressure."

"At least you're not competing with some long lost lover out there." She shrugged. "It just takes some of them longer to get their act together. Juice is almost forty."

"Really?"

"Yep."

"He doesn't look it."

"I know. Damn him."

Cassie let out another tired breath and sagged back against the wall. "I keep feeling like Koz got into something he never intended with me." She felt Ava's eyes on her. "He's great with Luc, but I can see that resistance in him. For instance, two weeks after we get back, I've got one of those inflatable moon bounces rented for Luc's birthday, gonna have a bunch of his friends from school over. Koz said, and I quote, 'I'd rather be kicked in the balls than be involved in that'. But I know he'll be there." She massaged a spot on her forehead. "I guess I worry about him resenting me. He's got an instant family going on with Luc and me. I asked him to move in and -,"

"You asked him to move in?" Ava's eyes were wide. "What'd he say?"

"So far? Nothing." Admitting it felt as good as getting a straight denial from Koz.

**-O-**

Though she'd said nothing was off the table, Cassie was a bit hesitant to ask what she wanted to. But eventually, through the ebb and flow of their conversation, she became brave enough. During a lull, she said quietly, "Your Sam – Koz keeps two pictures in his wallet. One of you and the baby. One of the birth announcement." She thought Ava stiffened. "Juice isn't his biological father." It wasn't a question.

Ava reached for her rings again, then made a loose fist and pressed it over her heart when she remembered they were in police custody. "Happy."

She remembered the tattoo that stretched across the girl's lower back. Beneath "Juice", the word "Happy" was done in bold, black script.

"What did Koz tell you?" Ava's voice was distant, but it wasn't offensive. Cassie had a feeling this had nothing to do with her and her possible outsider status. She had a feeling this wasn't a wall that had been suddenly put up, but a permanent force field.

"That Juice was 'Daddy' as far as everyone was concerned. And that it was your business to tell."

Ava nodded. Pushed her hair back behind her ears. Stared at the far wall where the curvy blonde was asleep on another cot. "He never wanted kids. I hadn't had a chance to tell him yet before he was murdered." She shook her head. "Juice was supposed to look out for me in the event that…" a deep breath ", I think Hap figured his time was coming at some point. He left me to him, willed me to Juice." Cass sat back, surprised at the lingo. The barest hint of a sad smile slipped across Ava's face. "He knew. Hap. He knew there was…potential. I was eight weeks along when Juice and I…" she faltered, cleared her throat. Her tone became clinical, she was trying to pick herself up. "Yeah, Juice is Daddy. From first ultrasound to the present."

Ava coughed a pathetic laugh. "Damn, I must sound like the biggest slut on the planet."

Cass let a beat pass. "No." Ava glanced over at her and, despite the force field, her eyes were shiny. "I don't know you very well, true, but five minutes around you guys and it's obvious you're best friends."

Ava nodded and looked away. Wiped at her eyes. They sat in silence for a while after that.

**-O-**

There was white sheet paper over the classroom's window, but it was translucent enough to let in the periwinkle predawn light when it came. Ava stifled a yawn. "What are you gonna name the kitten?"

"Well I don't know whether it's a boy or girl, won't be able to tell for a while." She frowned. Her face looked as tired as Ava's felt. When they got out, she was so going to be a wet blanket and sleep the rest of the day. "If it's still there when we get back. Koz was talking animal shelter."

Ava waved dismissively. "That pushover isn't gonna send a poor baby cat to the pound."

"Pushover?" Cass chuckled.

"I'm just saying, if a half pound kitten is a deal breaker for him, he's got major problems."

**-O-**

Chibs had been amused, but not surprised by the sight that awaited him on the front steps of cabin six that morning as he'd swung by to inquire about the girls' release. Juice had just been a lunchbox shy of looking like a kid at the bus stop. Dressed, hood pulled up over his head, those damn white ear phone thingies plugged in, staring morosely at the toes of his boots. Kozik hadn't emerged until departure time, looking surly and out of sorts. _Poor shithead, _he'd thought. He wasn't quite used to all this yet.

Ten a.m. saw the three of them at the school, prospects watching their bikes and weapons in the parking lot.

"Met'al detectors installed in primary schools? The world's gone to Hell, boys, in a hand basket," Chibs muttered, shaking his head as they entered what had become the Judicial overflow annex and saw the extreme level of security. He liked to pretend there was at least some innocence left in the world. "Ava still thinkin' on home teaching the boy?"

Juice nodded as he dug the change out of his pockets and dumped it into the little plastic basket, along with his rings and keys. "Yeah."

"I'd get on board with that shit, Juicy-boy. She can still do her writing from home. The world turns ugly bloody quick enough, no need to jump start it." He glanced over at Koz who was staring at the far wall, distracted to say the least. "They got this shit up your way?"

"What?"

"Your Cassie, she's got a boy, he's in school…you been to his school? They got this shit?" he nodded at the setup, which in no way looked temporary.

"Nah." Koz shook his head, "it's locked down, gotta be buzzed in but…" the loud, annoying _buzz_ cut him off and he shot a look over at Juice who was making his third attempt to get through without setting off the buzzers. "Seriously? What the fuck?"

"Oh, for the love of Christ!" Chibs roared. "It's probably the silver fillings in his goddamn teeth." The two cops stationed at the door glared at him: both tall, one skinny, the other over weight . Chibs rolled his eyes. "Look at you both, standin' there lookin' like before and after… why don't one of ya get off your ass and wave the fuckin' magic wand over me boy, so then maybe we could be on our merry way."

Both of them stood stupid and slack jawed a moment, then "Before" produced a wand from a shelf and made a bored spectacle of passing it across Juice. "After" watched with narrowed eyes and thumbs hooked behind his gun belt. They were suspicious. Chibs and Koz might have passed as regular tourists, but the kid's head ink made them wary. But he passed without tripping the sensor and the Scot gave the pigs a grin as they were waved deeper into the school.

The gymnasium/auditorium was acting as a processing hub. On one side, collapsible wooden bleachers were in the folded-out position, serving as seating for the peanut gallery. The high gloss floor with its token linage and the basketball hoops belied the seriousness of the matters taking place at the far end of the large room. There, seated at a teacher's desk, the district magistrate was levying fines and handing out warnings. To his left sat a woman with a mountain of kinky, super-volumized blonde curls that she kept brushing off her face. She looked like an ad for hair-taming bands and clips of all kinds as she recorded every one of the magistrate's words old school with pen and paper. The bailiff oddly resembled "Bull" from _Night Court:_ tall and bald and goofy looking. And after watching a few moments from the side lines, they saw the equivalent of Mall Cops hauling the "offenders" in in what appeared to be groups of three. The room was stuffy, the high windows were cracked but obviously, if the place was AC equipped, it wasn't running.

"They're going in alphabetical order, wonder where they're at?" Juice pondered aloud and was soon answered at the bailiff read off the names of the next three offenders to come before the magistrate.

"Boyle, Brinkman, Bueller…"

Juice chuckled despite the situation and without being able to stop himself. But quickly squelched it at the annoyed _Really?_ look Kozik shot his direction.

"Bueller?" Chibs grumbled. " Gonna be here all fuckin' day…"

Ever the optimist, Juice shrugged. "Ortiz comes before Telford would. And um, O and P are together in the alphabet, so the girls should process real close to each other."

**-O-**

It was taking forever. For-ever. Juice hadn't slept well. It wasn't something he'd want to admit, but the look Chibs had given him that morning had told him just how pathetic a picture he'd made on the cabin steps. Whatever. It was oddly hard to relax at night without a pair of skinny white knees digging into his kidneys.

The gym wasn't so much hot, as humid and smelly. The air felt alive. He was good and zoned out, popping his lips together.

"Juicy," Chibs warned.

"Sorry."

The next trio was brought in and he spared them a cursory glance: two dudes and a chick who wasn't Ava. "Nelson, Niles, Oliver," the bailiff called to the magistrate.

But Koz sat up straighter on the bench. "That's the bitch."

"Which one, her?"

"The blonde."

"Who jumped your girl?" Chibs asked.

Koz's grim, tight-jawed expression was answer enough. The little blonde was skinny, big fake tits, fried hair. Typical sweetbutt type. And she had a darkening bruise on her throat.

Chibs rumbled a laugh. "Looks like Cassie clocked her a good one."

Three more overnight prisoners came into the gym, two of these recognizable. "Ortiz, Purcell, Puryear."

Ava smiled when she spotted them, waved. With the exception of limp hair and tired eyes, she didn't look any worse for wear. Juice waved back, not caring how it looked. Both his brothers knew he was whipped.

Cassie, he noticed, didn't glance their way, but kept her head down.

**-O-**

They waited for the girls in what could only be described as the school's lobby: the hallway just inside the main doors outside the principal's office. Glass cases full of spelling bee trophies and teacher of the year plaques lined the walls. And a snarling, stuffed raccoon stood with one taxidermy-manipulated paw raised on a pedestal. "Rocky the Raccoon" a brass plate labeled him. There must be nothing more inspiring to the kids than a mascot that could give you rabies.

Koz was…well, he wasn't sure what he was. Pissed, uneasy, restless, fatigued. Every time he tried to put shit behind him and just enjoy the rest of the week, something else happened. He still didn't blame Cass, God knew she hadn't wanted or planned on any of this, but it was getting hard to ignore the seemingly cosmic warning that wouldn't leave him alone. There were some who'd call this an omen, would say Cass was a hot rock that needed to be dropped.

Echoed footfalls and the sound of Ava's voice signaled that the girls were coming around the corner. When they appeared, Juice and Chibs walked up to meet them, which left Cass alone, headed his way. She shot him a half-assed, tremulous smile and then ducked her head down, watching the toes of her boots, arms folded together like she was cold.

Koz knew better. She felt guilty. Embarrassed. Beaten down. In just the brief flash of eye contact, he'd seen the doubt he had the night before: her worry that she was too much of a bother to him, and that he was no longer interested in continuing whatever it was they had going.

He'd been amped up since he'd seen her from across the gym, but now, his strung-out adrenaline doubled, if that was possible. She stopped in front of him and didn't glance up, which irritated him. Gone was the proud girl he'd brought from Tacoma, he didn't recognize this woman. He knuckled her chin up and her eyes didn't want to meet his. But it gave him a clear shot off the knot on her forehead, the scrapes that split her skin with red, angry lines. That Sarah bitch had gotten in a good lick before she'd been taken down.

"You used your phone call to call your mother," he said and it sounded like an accusation.

"I called to check on my son. Asked Dinah-Ma to get in touch with you, which she clearly did." She swallowed hard, throat rolling. "Did she Western Union money?"

"I told her not to worry about it." He let his hand drop away from her face, squared his shoulders up. Pissed off all over again. "You're with me, you call me. You need something, you ask _me_."

"I didn't anticipate bail money when I budgeted the trip," she defended, missing the point. "I just asked Ma to send me more of my own. Three hundred bucks a piece to get us both out -,"

"Both?"

"The magistrate had a book and he reserved his right to throw it at anyone until he got to Ava and me."

Koz sighed heavily through his nostrils. "Ava has an Old Man to bail her out, that ain't your problem." He smirked. "So goes the life of an MC Old Lady – guilt by association. If a fight starts around you, guess where the fingers point."

She made a face and shook her head, withholding whatever it was she wanted to say.

"I'm starving," he heard Juice say and it effectively killed the moment.

"Yeah." Koz did an about-face and led the way out of the school. He'd had the forethought to bring Cass her shades – they'd been in the purse she'd left with him before heading off to the restroom with Ava the night before – and he passed him to her as they passed through the double doors out into the parking lot.

"Thank you," she murmured. They walked side-by-side, but didn't touch.

It was almost noon and the sun was blinding, so bright it made the asphalt shine. Suzy and one of the Charming prospects were still with the bikes, but Koz's eye was drawn to the _other_ bikes that had invaded the lot.

"Are you shitting me?"

The whole Topanga Canyon Club rumbled up to the curb and killed their engines, their wannabe cuts a complete abomination to clubs everywhere. Had they made the mistake of fashioning themselves three-piece patches instead of one-pieces – and Koz wished they had – Jax would have insisted on retaliation. Instead, the assholes were just making his personal life hell.

Deacon hung back, his short leash effectively shortened even further, but the old man wasn't shy, strolling toward them on his way up to the school. Koz shot a glance down at Cassie, saw her lift her chin, her jaw clamp into defiant lockdown. All the worry and trepidation she'd shown inside melted away, and instead she just looked pissed and ready for a fight. She wasn't going to get the chance though; his brothers stepped up beside him, creating a wall of SOA between the Top Cays and the girls. Chibs had seen and done it all, but he was starting to look put out with all this shit. Juice had his righteous little feathers ruffled: having Ava brought out the bold in him, and at this moment, it was appreciated. The two prospects were, well, _there_, and at least added to their numbers.

"Are you fuckin' shitting me?" Koz reiterated, this time directed at Whiskey.

The old man held up his hands in a defenseless pose. "Just here to pick up our belongings, then we'll be rollin' out. No more hassles."

"You reneged on our deal."

Whiskey _tsk_ed against the inside of his cheek. "That little catfight's been a long time brewin'. It was personal. Had nothin' to do with our discussion or my club."

Koz smiled widely and chuckled, without a trace of humor. "One of a lot of reasons your club don't come close to measuring up to an OMC. What our women do reflects on our club. There's a consequence for every action."

"Yeah, and story has it one of your women took a Taser to our girl. And_ yours _almost smashed Sarah's windpipe."

Juice bowed up. "Self defense after being jumped – you really wanna stand here and argue semantics?"

Chibs put a hand on his son-in-law.

Koz glared at Whiskey, wanting to ensure his meaning was crystal clear this time. "I'm _done_ with _all_ this shit. Get your _belongings_ and stay the fuck away from my club. We see any more of your cracker jack patch, or any_ belongings_ thereto, and there won't be another_ almost_."

**-O-**

The Lighthouse diner was the only eating establishment that looked like it might have enough room for a few more customers, so that was where they stopped for a very late breakfast. Cassie wasn't hungry, but she wouldn't have dared argue that fact at the moment. Her stomach was twisted up in about fifty knots. Seeing Whiskey and Deacon in the parking lot had felt like the final nail in her coffin: not a soul could blame Koz when he took her home to Tacoma, and dumped her ass. Had the situations been reversed, she probably would have run away screaming. She had to at least give him credit for being civil. If you could call his sour mood "civil".

Juice and Ava were leading the way up to the front of the diner and paused, Cass nearly collided with them. Ava was staring up at the hand-painted, peeling sign that depicted a lighthouse perched on a jagged outcropping of rock. Cassie swallowed hard, feeling suddenly clammy all over as she made the connection between the tower card in her dream and the tower that was the lighthouse on the sign. Prophecy?

"Odd name for a place located smack in the middle of the mountains," Ava said.

Juice nodded in agreement. "How far away is the nearest damn ocean?"

It was her nightmare. Come to life. Sarah and Koz's anger and now…_"Now, who can tell the class which ocean is closest to South Dakota?"_

"Fourteen-hundred miles," she blurted before she could stop herself.

Juice half-turned to look back at her, chuckling. "Rainman in our midst."

She swore she could feel the color draining out of her cheeks. She swallowed again.

"'Tis alright, girl," Chibs said beside her. "Think it was a bit of a rhetorical question. He talks to himself, that one."

"Oh, I do not…" That launched the Scot and the Puerto Rican into a friendly argument back and forth about who was more fucked up. Ava rolled her eyes and said something over her shoulder as they entered the diner, but Cassie didn't hear it. She felt a little light-headed. Maybe it was the lack of food. Maybe it was the fact that Koz still wasn't even looking at her, much less speaking.

She was so lost, and didn't even know which way to turn for direction. Koz was apparently supposed to be her resource for everything, but he was less than helpful at the moment. With good reason. But Chibs and Juice and Ava should have been pissed at her. Did she apologize for being the reason behind the arrest? Or did she pretend everything was fine like Ava? She didn't know, and no longer understood how to process any of it.

They crammed into a big circular booth – Suzy, Koz, her, Ava, Juice, Chibs and then Phin, the prospects serving as end caps – and she ordered the same thing Ava did, bacon and toast, to avoid looking too obvious in her discomfiture. It helped, too, that Ava picked at her food. That way she wasn't the only one with little appetite. Now only silence made her stick out like a sore thumb.

"…eats like a goddamn bird," Chibs was saying, motioning toward his daughter's half-eaten wheat toast.

Juice paused between bites of his Denver omelet, that he was scarfing down like he thought someone might take it away from him, swallowed, almost choked. "Nah. Birds eat a lot, like, twice their body weight every day. I saw that on Nat Geo."

Chibs rolled his eyes. "I'm surrounded by nerds."

Watching them should have been comforting, but instead was almost painful. They were so happy and well-adjusted, this little family unit. And she and Koz were…not. When his phone rang, it was a relief.

"This is your mom," he informed when he checked the display.

"I better take it."

Without a word, Koz shoved Suzy out, then slid out of the booth as well, giving her space to leave and go handle her mother's concerns in private. Which she did, palmed his phone headed for the bathroom with a lump in her throat.

**-O-**

Ava was still adjusting to the whole notion of Koz having a steady girlfriend – hell, Old Lady – but even a blind person could have seen the pressure building between the couple that was sure to lead to one hell of an explosion if someone didn't hit the release valve. As Cassie walked toward the back of the diner, Ava watched the agitated way Koz sat back down. He was too serious, the way he always was when he was pissed, picked up the ketchup like he was mad at it and cursed when it wouldn't shake out of the bottle.

With an air of calculated casualness, she asked, " so who's watching Nikki?"

His head snapped up, his frown heavy. "Who?"

"The kitten that Cassie found."

"She named the thing?"

His tone actually caused Juice to take a breath between bites – not an easy feat. She saw her father's curious frown from the corner of her eye. "Yeah. After Nikki Sixx. Unisex, and cause we were in cabin six. Cute, huh?"

"That _is_ real genius," Juice said.

Chibs snorted a laugh.

Koz shook his head, grumbled, and stabbed at his eggs.

A beat of silence passed. Ava wasn't sure what to do, which chafed at her a bit: she usually understood all things Kozik. Now, not so much.

Finally, Chibs cleared his throat. "Your girl seems awful upset about gettin' busted."

"Yeah, well," he shot a glare across the table at Ava, "some chicks don't adjust to a life of crime as well as others."

"Oh, that's a low blow," she protested. "Baby," she thumped Juice in the arm, "you wanna weigh in?"

"What?" he was pressing his fingertip to the little crumbs of bacon left on his plate and then licking them off. "Oh, yeah. Don't talk about my Old Lady," he said with zero indignation, not even glancing up. She sighed.

"You know," Chibs said, loudly, loud enough to get all their attentions, and those of the people at the next table. "In my experience, better not to let them stew." He gave Koz a meaningful look. "Might need a little reassurance, lad."

Koz narrowed his eyes. "Since when did you get all preachy, asshole?"

"Wisdom of old age," Chibs said with a grin, unphased.

Koz cursed under his breath, but waved Suzy out of the way so he could get up.

**-O-**

Cassie had just disconnected with her mom, was hopelessly tidying her hair in the mirror and trying not to cry, when the door to the restroom swung open and Koz stepped in.

His reflection looked murderous, and he wasted no time explaining his appearance in the ladies' room. "What your mom want?"

She blinked, still startled. "Just checking to make sure I'm alright." With incredulity, she said, "you followed me?"

He ignored her question. "Bacon and toast?" His stare was pointed, his words loaded. They'd both seen blueberry pancakes listed on the menu. He knew that they were her favorite, last-meal-on-death-row classification of food. It was a fact she'd shared early on, and the memory of those long-ago and far-behind, playful, get-to-know each other games and talks stung so badly it almost tickled and Cassie found herself torn between sobbing and laughing, uproariously and inappropriately. "Ordering like us doesn't make you one of - "

"It's just food, Zeke," she interrupted. "Simple nourishment." Talking over him earned her an expected glare of disapproval. But she needed the floor. "You're right though, nothing that has happened this week, to me or because of me, has won me any awards or favors amongst your family and friends. Or with you. It's served to highlight all the ways I'm not one of you. "

She paused, breathed, bit her bottom lip. "I've tried so hard, I wanted this to work so badly, for both of us. You - this club is who you are - not the grand sum total, no, but the overwhelming majority. That won't ever change and I'm not asking for it to. Me - I dunno. I blame myself for all the bullshit. Yesterday, when I tried to point fingers at you, I was wrong. I'm a big girl, I make my choices, good or bad. That first day you saw I had a son…and I saw you _were_ a Son. You didn't hide who, what you are: hot guy with a Harley. I'll admit the attention was nice. "

Her voice cracked and she shifted her weight, stared at the ceiling for a second or two, hands on her hips. She pressed until her fingertips went numb. "You were the first guy in a long damn time who didn't take one look at my kid and high-tail it fast and furious in the opposite direction. Maybe you were smart and used being nice to my kid as an in. And maybe…I let you because you could give me what I wanted. But the mutually satisfying scenario backfired on both of us."

She wiped her eyes. "Because I fell in love with the man beneath the sex appeal and swagger... and you…you fell in love with us too." His face went slack. "You didn't expect it, probably hit ya like a Mack truck, but you did, if you're honest with yourself. And I know that you are - because one of the things I admire about you is that you_ don't_ bullshit yourself. That's why this sucks so much. I never wanted to reflect badly upon you. " She scrunched up her nose, still amazed she was keeping the tears at bay, but knew she wouldn't be able to for much longer. The lump in her throat was so large she practically gagged trying to swallow around it. "I need...um, I ah ... Dinah-Ma will order a Greyhound ticket home, I just need to call her back, let her know."

The words out, she felt hollow and empty, stubborn pride the only thing keeping her standing. She swore she could hear the second hand ticking on their wrist watches; ludicrous considering his Rolex and her Lady TAG. The dripping of the faucet sounded like Niagara Falls. And they waited.

**-O-**

"They're not, um…" Koz's prospect scratched at the dark stubble along his jaw, "you know, _doing it_ in the bathroom, are they?"

Chibs couldn't contain his burst of laughter. He'd never get tired of hearing prospects' stupid questions, though he'd never tell the twitchy little shits that.

"I hope not," Ava said with an elaborate shudder. "The bacteria. Ick."

Juice started to say something, grinning, then his eyes cut over Chibs' way and he wisely thought better of it. The Scot might have loved the kid – the son he never had made official by marriage – but there were some things a father could never get used to.

"Yo," Phin had one of those deep voices that always seemed to surprise people. "Cops."

And there were cops, so many that it looked like they'd all clocked out at once and were on their way to wherever they spent the day while their replacements patrolled the rally during the day. They were seated at a cluster of tables not fifty feet away and Chibs could feel their stares, see them too when he glanced over.

"Alright, lads. Get the tab. I'm gonna make sure 'reassurin' don't mean somethin' illegal. I've bailed my share of children for the day."

**-O-**

This woman was precise with her hammering: she hit every nail on its head. For almost a year he'd been stumbling around like he was made from tin, because the five-feet-eight-inches of Ho-ly Shit standing in front of him had waltzed into his life and made off with his heart. She was a burden and a delight, his dream girl, though he'd never admit it, and his goddamned living nightmare. He was torn between an intense desire to slap her silly or fuck her brains out. Koz knew she was in agony waiting on him to say something and the asshole in him made her wait for it. His initial response wasn't verbal, it was more of a repositioning of his lanky frame. Then he spoke. "You fit." At her startled, confused look, he offered clarification, "you fit _me_."

Her eyes were huge and brimming with tears. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair; this fucking week was going to cause early baldness. He up-nodded. "Takes a majority vote to get a patch in this club. They accept the baggage that comes along with the members or what crops up along the way, even while they bitch to the high heavens about it. Unless you're a threat to the club, which you aren't, it's not their judgment you gotta worry about." He let his features soften just a little. Nodded, glanced around, shocked to remember he was standing in a ladies' restroom. "You can call Dinah, have her order you a bus ticket if you want. The trip has been hell, on us personally and on everyone else. Weather, food poisoning, old bullshit... I'm not gonna beg ya to stay, but I'm not ready to ask you to leave."

He watched her hands tremble when she reached up and wiped away her tears. "I'm stronger than all of this."

"No doubt." He had to forcibly bite back his smile when she stepped to him, buried her face in his chest and slipped her arms around his waist. He returned the embrace, kissing the top of her head. "Buck up, beautiful."

She laughed with a sniffle, glancing up at him. "Beautiful? Look at me. I think you may need your glasses for more than just reading."

He narrowed his eyes – he hated any reference to his newfound optical need, the rewards of getting old – but seeing a smile on her lips made it impossible for him to admonish. Instead he leaned down and kissed her.

The door to the restroom opened and Koz whipped his head around. An older woman with a flowery handbag big enough to smuggle a cat in had halted in the doorway, agape. She eyed them both, harrumphed in offense. "Well I never!"

Koz chuckled when he saw the faux look of sympathy on Cassie's face. "Aw, pity for you then."

He saw movement in the hall, outside the door the woman held open. Chibs was interloping. The Scot nodded his head towards the dining area. "Five-O, brother."

"Time to go," he conceded.

**-O-**

The rest of breakfast passed without incident, despite some dirty looks from the shift of cops. And Koz and Cassie seemed to be, if not normal, than at least more at ease.

Lunch was being served back at camp: Sons and women milled around beneath the pavilion, plates in hand. Ava could smell the tang of grilled meat. She was relieved to see the group taking a break, hoped it meant she could sneak away and take a nap. The night sitting up on the cot had left her sore and exhausted.

Bobby was the first to notice their arrival. "You girls won't be satisfied til you've clocked every bitch at Sturgis, huh?" But he was grinning.

Tig was more like sneering.

Koz shot his nemesis a look, then addressed Bobby with a sigh. "Fuck. I feel like I'm living an _I Love Lucy_ rerun."

Tig barked a laugh. "Ha! Well I guess that makes you Fred," he pointed at Koz. "and she's Ethel," Cassie. "Cause the role of Ricky would _have_ to go to him!" He aimed his finger at Juice, now cackling hysterically. "Making you," Ava rolled her eyes, "Lucy."

Juice chuckled, but Koz did not. Instead started rolling up the sleeves of his flannel shirt.

"Alright, asshole, it's _on_."

"Ah, shit," Chibs said on a groan. "I just lost the pool. Juicy-boy, get out yer chart."

**TBC**


	13. Black Hills Rapport

**AN: **Merry Christmas, everyone! Hope you all have a wonderful holiday.

**...**

**13. Black Hills Rapport**

The scene was controlled chaos: dust stirred up from the scuffling feet of the fighters, the meaty sounds of fists hitting flesh, swears and grunts from the opponents, and around them, Sons and Old Ladies cheered and vied for better positions so they could see the action. Cassie's heart was in her throat, but already, she could tell that this brawl was creating a completely different atmosphere than what she was referring to as _The Attack on Juice_. Koz and Tig were more evenly matched, for starters, and all the spectators had grins on their faces. This was the kind of match she'd witnessed at the Tacoma clubhouse. Slowly, she pried her fingers from one another and let her hands hover at her waist.

Ava stood to one side of her, Bobby on the other. Chibs and Juice were talking animatedly about some piece of paper the significance of which she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

A collective _oooohhhh_ went up from the crowd as Koz faked Tig out and put a right hook to his nose. There was a muffled _crunch_, and then blood was pouring down the Charming SAA's chin. "That's blood!" Someone called gleefully.

"Oh my God," Cassie clapped a hand over her mouth. This whole spectacle was her fault. Koz, bless him, was still defending her, even if it got him in an all-out brawl with a brother.

She felt a touch on her arm and turned to see Bobby shaking his head. "Nah, don't go there. This is all on them, darlin'."

"Oh yeah," Ava confirmed. She was trying to hide her smile, but it was there. "This is a regular occurrence. I'm just glad Koz is getting the upper hand this time - _yeah_!" she cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted the last to the fighters.

"Alright," Chibs said loudly, "which bastard beat me outta my money?"

"Money?" Cass heard herself ask.

Bobby had the good graces to look embarrassed. "Had a pool going. Who would start the fight and who would draw first blood."

Marveling at the testosterone-induced barbarity of it all, she glanced over to where Juice was going through what she now knew was an Excel spreadsheet of placed bets.

"Okay," he said, tracing the figures with a finger. "The bastard would be…" he chuckled, "your wife."

Chibs roared with laughter, said something she couldn't make out – he was still hard to understand – and slapped Juice hard on the back.

Slowly, even though Koz and Tig continued to land blows on one another and the crowd continued to cheer, Cassie felt the fist that had nearly squeezed her stomach in two start to loosen by increments. Koz wasn't going to have his head slammed against a rock. No one was going to be drug off into the night – or in this case, afternoon – by angry Sons. And she didn't think Ava would only leap to her husband's defense – if she thought Koz was in danger, she wouldn't be grinning the way she was. Cass exhaled in a tired rush. She wasn't used to this stuff. When she'd been with Mike, she hadn't spent much time around the crew, and after the split, she'd been determined to distance herself from anything of this nature. It was an adjustment, one that was taking a lot out of her.

But she'd never been one to cut and run unless she was flat out of options. This sparring match she could handle.

And in the next minute, the fight was over. Tig was sent to his knees, clutching at his rib cage. He got to his feet quickly, spitting blood and cursing his opponent, but the show was over. Bobby stepped forward to break them up.

Koz had fought shirtless, all his ink proudly on display, and the sun glinted off the sweat that misted his skin. Made his rolling, stretching muscles look carved from polished marble. He was gorgeous. And when his glittering blue eyes found hers and locked on, the light in them sent a shiver down her spine that left her toes curling inside her boots. He was an animal un-caged: a beautiful, deadly animal. It was different side of him, much like the enforcer she'd watch hustle Juice's opponent off into the brush, and rather than frighten her, it turned her on.

"Well there's my little convict!" Janine's voice killed the moment, but Cass turned toward the Tacoma queen bee as she made her way through the crush of bodies and came to her side. She had Nikki cuddled up in her arms and the kitten looked content. "I took good care of your baby."

By the time she'd caught up with the camp news and assured Janine that the night in lockup hadn't scarred her for life, had taken her kitty back, Koz had disappeared toward the cabin and Tara had Tig's head tipped back, examining his nose. A phone call from Dinah slowed her down further and she stood beneath the shade of one of the area's few scrub trees while she talked to her mother and watched the Charming SAA get doctored.

The interior of the cabin offered shade, but not a drop in the temperature. "Koz?" she called as she walked through the empty main room, boot heels loud on the floorboards. He was in the bathroom in front of the mirror, rubbing his face dry with a towel - he'd obviously washed his face – still shirtless. He had a split lip, was going to have some bruises, but he wasn't in the same shape as Tig.

Cassie propped a shoulder against the doorjamb. "I almost feel like I owe Tig an apology. I know all that aggression wasn't directed at him."

He gave her a level look via the mirror, took a sip of water from one of the paper cups lined up on the sink, swished, and spit it back out bloody. "He deserved it."

She shrugged, willing to let the subject drop. She'd known that Koz was carrying around a lot of pent up aggression about the Top Cay situation, but it had seemed that his brothers were right – he and Tig couldn't get along – and she wasn't going to push the issue.

He turned around and leaned back against the sink, arms resting on the basin. His eyes went to Nikki, or maybe he was just checking out her cleavage the way he smirked. But he said, "Got your baby back?"

"Janine took good care," she smiled, scratching the kitten lightly on top of his head. "Even, apparently, sent Leon to a five and dime to pick up a litter box and something to feed it. He managed to snag some kitten formula too, didn't even know they made that."

Koz shook his head. "Good ol' Leon Brown."

Cassie knew his last name was Windish, but that the guys had taken to calling him "Brown" because it was the color of his nose. To him, Prospect meant professional suckup. She laughed, watching his face, weighing his mood. She hated to do it, but she said, "Talked to Dinah-Ma." His head snapped up, gaze narrowing.

"Yeah?" his response was flat and she knew it was because the last real time they'd spoken one-on-one, he'd left it to her to decide if she wanted her mom to buy her a greyhound ticket home.

She stepped in and closed the door with a sigh. Went to sit on the edge of the tub and set Nikki on the bathmat at her feet. "Yeah. She called to find out where I keep Luc's birth certificate. She needs it to sign him up for Pop Warner Football - although he had a serious meltdown because he's not old enough for anything but flag and he wants to tackle people."

She was staring at the toes of her boots, but heard Koz chuckle. "Boys," he muttered. The water cut on again, and then back off. When she glanced up, he was running his fingers through now-damp hair. His eyes told her he knew there was more to say. "What else?"

"She also wanted to advise me that he managed to get himself kicked out of bible camp."

He blinked, and then Cassie's chest swelled with relief when a brilliant grin spread across his face. "How, pray tell, did the little shit manage that?"

"He apparently got in his head that at The Last Supper, Jesus went around saying 'eat me' when he handed out The Bread."

His eyes crinkled, he slowly shook his head, and the laugh that followed was in the category of soul cleansing and infectious. In the midst of trying to catch his breath, he said "I love your kid. Holy fuck!"

**-O-**

Ava had always thought the best part about being affiliated with the club was having moments like these. No drama, no risk, no outlaw behavior. She sat on one of the low benches around the bonfire, head resting on Juice's shoulder, his hand curled around her thigh, listening to the stories of the others, laughing where appropriate, watching the towering blaze of logs crackle, and getting a little tipsy. It was a good night.

Cassie and Koz, she was glad to see, looked cozy again. Which surprised the hell out of her when she considered that, yeah, she really was glad about that. Koz deserved his slice of the good life, was past due really, and Cass, despite her baggage, was not what Ava had originally thought._ See_, she imagined telling Dr. Fischer. _Look how mentally healthy I'm being! Changing my opinion and all that shit._ And then she shook her head for talking to herself.

"So whatcha think," Jax had to raise his voice to be heard and Ava glanced in his direction, saw that he was smiling at them. "You sewn any seeds yet, bro?"

No one had ever told her cousin how tacky he could be. Ava bit her lip and turned her face into Juice's shoulder, laughing _at_ Jax rather than with him.

"Jax!" Tara scolded, thumping him in the arm.

But Juice wasn't phased, laughed. "Yeah, now we just gotta see if anything sprouts."

"Okay," Ava sat up. "How 'bout we don't talk about our procreative habits?"

"I second that," Tig chimed in.

"Third," Koz and Glen said in unison, which drew a dark look from Tig. He was nursing quite the pair of shiners, and the fact that he and Koz agreed on something seemed to be troubling him.

"Aye," Chibs said, "me too."

"A'ight," Jax conceded with a tip of his beer bottle. He couldn't fight the consensus. Gesturing around their circle, he raised his voice another notch. "Craziest thing."

"Craziest thing what?" Chibs called.

"That happened this week." He aimed a finger at his VP. "Go."

No one's answer was that shocking, except for Tig's because it involved three girls and a resin horse statue. When the game reached Juice, he ducked his head and smiled grimly. "No comment."

Ava grinned now that she was the focus of attention and shot a glance toward Cass. Her partner in crime returned the smile. "Night in lockup," she said the same moment Koz's girl said, "arrested."

"Ooh," Juice raised his head. "I change my answer. Watching my Old Lady get arrested."

There was a round of laughter all around and Ava leaned into her man, smiling like a fiend. Part of it was the alcohol, but part of it was just the happy, warm atmosphere around them. She felt safe, loved, incorporated into this family she still – though born into it – wanted to belong to. Doom and dread had hung over her head for so much of her life, the little moments, the bonfires with brothers, uncles, cousins, fathers and hubby were treasured.

She slid an arm around his waist and nuzzled at the underside of his jaw. He chuckled and the sound reverberated through his throat, tickled her cheek. "What are you after?" he asked like he already knew.

"Kiss." And she pressed one against his neck.

His hand left her thigh and went to the small of her back, flirted with the hem of her shirt. He pulled back so he could turn his head and look at her. Ava loved his smile tonight: one of those slightly buzzed, warm and friendly ones. It made her feel all hot and melty inside. She stretched up to meet his descending kiss and it became quickly apparent that the alcohol had diminished the modesty they should have been displaying in front of everyone else. She was the one who pulled back and broke the wet seal of their lips with a _smack_. He made another dive for her and she put a finger over his lips, laughing.

"Meet me at the cabin in five?"

He grinned. "Hurry."

**-O-**

"How can you possibly be cold? I feel like I'm sitting six inches from the fucking Sun." Koz shifted in the camp chair he was occupying. With the bonfire burning full throttle, and with the added warmth of Cassie seated across his lap, her arms looped around his neck, her body practically wrapped around his, he thought he might actually burst into flames.

She snugged the tip of her nose into the crook of his neck. "My shivering has nothing to do with the temperature." He felt her hand, the one that wasn't still holding that goddamn cat, take a trip across his chest, scratching at him with her nails through his shirt.

He turned his head so that his lips were against her ear when he spoke just low enough for her hear. "You know," he said with a dark smile to his voice, "if you want me to play with your pussy, you're gonna have to lose the other one."

She sat back and he expected a hurt look. But the tiniest of smiles curved her lips. Her eyes danced with firelight. "Deal."

**-O-**

Cass rounded the front corner of the cabin and was momentarily startled to see a shadowed figure approaching the porch from the opposite direction. An image of one of Deacon's crew coming back to rattle her cage flashed through her head before she dismissed it. She was not a paranoid, jumpy person. And she needed to stop acting like one. Besides, with so many people milling around camp at all times, the odds of the shadow that put a hand on the porch rail and stepped forward being an enemy were slim to none.

"Cass?" she recognized Ava's voice, and then the other Old Lady stepped into the small puddle of light thrown by the twin lanterns that flanked the cabin's door. It made Cass smile: there was nothing wrong with a little caution, and obviously both of them believed in that.

"Yeah, hey." She came forward so she was visible too. All hot and wound up a moment ago about the idea of Koz joining her, she felt the warmth leave her body. She jerked her thumb up toward the cabin. "I was just -,"

"Bathroom?"

"Yeah."

Ava nodded, but she nibbled at the corner of her bottom lip. "Me too."

"Well you go ahead. I can wait."

Ava's eyes went up the steps, to the door, brows knitted together, then swung all the way back, looking very dark in the dim light. "No, that's okay. You go. I might be awhile."

"No, really, it's okay -,"

"You can -,"

They stared at each other a moment, both twitching smiles. "You're not here to use the bathroom, are you?" Cassie asked, though by now she'd figured out the answer.

Ava chuckled. "No. And I'm guessing you're not either."

"Nope." Her sigh turned into a laugh – it was hard not to. "You guys are trying to have a baby, so you go ahead."

"You guys have had a shitty week," she countered. "No, I will not stand in the way of makeup nookie."

"We've both had shitty weeks."

Ava grinned. "That's par for the course for us."

"Look, don't just be polite. You and Juice take the room."

"I'm not _that_ polite."

Cass chuckled again. "That I believe."

Then they were both laughing, the sound happy as it echoed off the front of the cabin.

"Alright," Ava, grinning hugely, rolled up her sleeves. "Rock, paper, scissors."

**-O-**

Despite the loud crunch of his boots over the gravel, Koz could hear female voices chatting as he rounded the front porch of the cabin…and nearly ran into Juice. "Dude -,"

"Shit, sorry."

They backed away to a respectable distance and then frowned as they glanced at one another. Up on the porch, on the top step, Cass and Ava were sitting side-by-side, talking about something that had them both laughing so hard they looked near tears. He afforded himself a moment to take in the sight, to register that both the girls in his life were finally getting along, and not just for show. There was nothing awkward about the way Ava put her hand on Cassie's shoulder to catch her attention. And neither one of them noticed their men and leapt to their feet, eager to leave one another's company. Koz nodded to himself. _Good_, he thought, genuinely glad that at least something seemed to have gone in his favor this week.

Then he returned to the situation at hand, and, taking stock of Juice standing next to him looking like a dejected puppy with his hands in his cut pockets, he figured the girls weren't just making friends, they were having similar thoughts. He and the idiot had both come for a cabin rendezvous. And they both seemed to know it.

Juice rocked back on the heels of his boots. "So…"

Koz snorted.

"Well, at least they don't hate each other," he observed the obvious. He smiled as he watched his Old Lady. "I think they've formed a friendship."

"Some might call it a coven."

Juice shrugged. "Ava needs friends. I think it's a good thing."

Koz did too, but he wasn't about to get all sappy over it. They lapsed into silence again, both doubtless trying to think of a ways to settled this little coincidence.

Cass glanced up and her face, he noticed, looked the most relaxed and happy he'd seen it all week. She looked like the smoking hot assistant branch manager who'd been checking him out through the windows of her bank, the mother and very self-assured woman he knew her to be, and not the scared chick who'd cried over the stress of the Topanga Canyon Crew. He guessed it proved that they all had buttons, pull-cords inside them that ejected their emotional parachutes. He didn't think he did – he'd spent too much time hanging from real parachutes when he was eighteen – but his Old Lady did. And Little Bit did. So did Juice…okay, so maybe everyone did, even him, though he wasn't ever going to fess up to that. Regardless, he was learning that when you wormed your way into a person's life and not just her bed, you got to see the bad and the ugly, and not just the good. And never before had he been able to handle the bad and ugly.

"Hey, guys," Cassie greeted. "Sorry, we kind of, um, _double booked_ the cabin."

"I see that." He glanced over at Juice who nodded toward number six.

"Age before beauty," he offered with a sweep of his hand.

Koz narrowed his eyes. "Fuck you. " And the idiot chuckled. "C'mon, Cass, it's bad enough I have to think about them procreating. Don't need a front row seat."

His girl chuckled and got to her feet, dusted off the seat of her jeans. She and Ava traded little waves and good-byes, and she came down the steps to join him, sidling up beside him and threading her arm through his.

"You know," she said in a throaty whisper. "I betcha none of the rest of these cabins are locked."

His grin stretched so wide his face hurt.

**-O-**

The sunrises were gorgeous up here. Chibs couldn't say much for South Dakota's weather, and the week's chaos had left him feeling very much his age, but when the sun popped over the horizon in a pink-and-orange explosion, it was goddamn beautiful.

Maggie picked up her cell on the second ring and Chibs could hear the boy in the background, babbling away. "Thought you'd still be asleep in a ditch this time of the morning," she said.

"You're a riot."

She laughed. "Sorry. Why're you up so early?"

He kept his voice low so as not to wake his brothers that were asleep around the blackened ashes of last night's bonfire. And the cat, for that matter. The tiny ball of orange fluff was curled up in someone's sweatshirt in a camp chair. "Missed you."

"Miss you too." They had finally given up on being jealous or feeling jaded – she didn't get suspicious and moody with him the way she used to – but she sounded a little forlorn. She had been excited to keep Sam for the week, but a fifteen-month-old was only so much company. "How're the kids?"

"They snuck away last night. Far as I know, neither one of 'em ended up in jail or whacked over the head."

"Christ," she sighed. "They're gonna need marriage counseling after rally."

"Nah," he assured, feeling confident in his statement to the fact. "They're happy. This week's been nothin' compared to all that…other shit." He crushed out the last of his cig on the bottom of his boot and then ground it into the gummy soil just to be sure. "Meanwhile, I got elected to babysit the stray pussy."

She made a choking sound. "Excuse me?"

"Shit," he grumbled. "Not that kind. Kozik's apparently adopted a cat – his girl saved the wee thing in a rain storm. Her and Ava been motherin' the the lil' mongrel. Think they miss their boys."

"Yeah," she agreed. A beat passed. "How's she getting along with the girl Koz brought?" Maggie sounded sincerely curious, but he could almost sense that she was stalling him, like she was afraid he'd hang up soon and wanted to keep him on the line.

"Night in a cell did 'em a world o' good," he said with a chuckle. "They're right friendly now. Not exactly you and Gemma yet, but…"

"Not mortal enemies either. Good. I've convinced myself that one of these days, she'll get a social life."

The sun crept up over a thin stripe of purple clouds and its light became more pure, a buttery color that was almost yellow.

"Wish you coulda come with us, luv."

She sighed into the phone, the sound a soft rustle in his ear. "My rally days are long since gone, baby. But I appreciate the sentiment."

"Oh, by the way, you won the pool on Tigger and Kozik."

"I did?" her voice took on the excitement of a child. "Sweet! Can I trust you to bring back my winnings?"

"Yeah, yeah…"

He asked about his Sammy-boy, because the kid was getting loud in the background. And as he sat amongst drunken, passed-out bikers on a Sturgis hillside, they chatted about their grandson and the prospect of having another one. Chibs didn't know how anyone could get through life without that kind of thing.

After he disconnected the call, he had another few minutes of solitude before he heard the grass rustling behind him. Whoever it was made too little noise to be one of the guys, and his suspicions were confirmed when Ava came up to the bench he was sitting on and eased down beside him. She had tucked her jeans down into her tall boots to keep them dry, dew all over the boots, and wore Juice's reaper sweatshirt, little hands tucked up inside the sleeves. Her hair was in a ponytail, face freshly scrubbed, but free of makeup.

"Hey, darlin'. Why you up so early?"

"Internal alarm clock," she said with a smile, eyes trained on the sunrise. "I'm so used to getting up with Sam I can't sleep late anymore. And I didn't want to wake Juice with my tossing around, so…" her gaze cut over for a second. "I thought you might want some company."

He was pleasantly surprised: she wasn't the one who made overtures between them. "Always." He tapped his cell. "I just got off the phone with your mum."

"Did you tell her she won the pool?"

"Aye," he chuckled.

Ava smiled in a way that, proudly, reminded him of Maggie. "You know, her winning is like you winning too."

"Don't think I haven't already thought o' that."

They lapsed into a silence that, though not uncomfortable, made him itchy because he knew that moments like this were opportunities to better their relationship. And she'd already made the overture of walking all the way up here. Chibs glanced at her dew-soaked black Harley boots. "You're not wearin' your new ones?"

Her eyes lit up at the mention of the sand-collared knee-highs he'd bought her. "I don't want to get them dirty. And you can't get suede wet," she slicked a palm down her left boot that came away damp and covered with grass seed. "They're way too pretty to ruin."

"You like 'em then?"

"I _love_ them." She stared at him a moment and he thought she might want to say something else, but figured that, like always, she'd keep it to herself. Instead, she surprised him. "Hey, Dad?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you for…being so supportive of us. Juice and me." Her expression became almost nervous.

It amused him a little considering they'd been married since April, but it was touching nonetheless. It had taken her her whole little life to be this happy. He wasn't about to spoil that. "O' course," he assured, looping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side. "Who wouldn't want a buncha Puerto Rican grandbabies, huh?"

She laughed. "I'm serious, Dad."

"Aye. Me too." He kissed the top of her head, her hair, dark like his. "I love ya, ya brat."

Her arm went around his middle and she hugged him back. Didn't try to pull away like he'd worried. "Love you too."

They watched the sun come up together.

**TBC**


	14. Black Hills Souvenirs

**AN: **Thank you so much to the brave few who read our first collaborative effort. And a huge, all caps THANK YOU to the fantastic handful who reviewed and kept us going! We appreciate it, ladies!

This is the end of Sturgis, but the beginning of all that's crazy to come. Next we'll be posting "We Are Young": a look at the ups and downs, dramatic turns and successes of the Charming and Tacoma charters. Family, blood, and club work together in strange ways, and we're excited to bring the kids to life from beginning to end.

Thank you, again. Reviews are absolutely lovely!

…

**14. Black Hills Souvenirs**

The morning that was their last in Sturgis, South Dakota dawned cloudless, though all Cass could tell from her makeshift bed was that the very first rays of light were probing at the window panes in the front room of the cabin, quietly asking if they could come in and warm the world around them. Everything was a muted, perfect blue. And as she lay with an arm propped behind her head, she thought it was a nice parallel to her situations – all of them – because things were back to good.

If Sturgis had been meant as a test, she'd struggled, but ultimately, she'd passed. Her closet door had come bursting open and all her skeletons had danced their jig for all – _all_ – to see. Whiskey Purcell didn't have her son. Her mom and Luc were still safe back in Tacoma. The niece, and subsequently the whole of Charming, didn't hate her, and best of all, her man still wanted her. Loved her despite the bullshit. _Mine_. His declaration still echoed in her brain. It warmed her just as much as the feel of his hand, that was now sliding up her side and pulling her body closer to his.

Safe. Happy. Loved. Even with a rogue mattress spring from the sofa bed jabbing her in the ribs, even with the numerous bumps, cuts, scrapes and bruises, split lips and partial shiners…life was beautiful.

"Mornin', gorgeous," Koz's first-thing-in-the-morning voice was gruff against her neck. His lips and short growth of stubble tickled her skin. "So," he drawled. "Heard talk that the club may take another run at Sturgis next year."

"Hmm." She turned, repositioning herself so she was lying on her back, looking up at him. He was propped on his elbow, disheveled, but sexy as hell. Of course he was. "You're telling me this, because? You plan on still having me around this time next year and you, what? Want to tempt fate again?" His soft chuckle and grin was enough of an answer. She smiled; she couldn't bite it back if she'd wanted to, which she didn't, but was about to tell him that he could have a free pass to attend the pussy parade, that she had no plans of returning to Sturgis – The Fifth Ring of Hell – _ever…_

But the front door of the cabin banged open and two figures rushed in.

Cassie yelped involuntarily as with one quick, fluid movement, Koz moved over her and positioned himself between her and the intruders. In the process, he'd managed to liberate his gun from beneath his pillow and now had it aimed at the interlopers.

"Holy fuck! Don't shoot us, dude!" she recognized Carter's voice as he stepped in front of the other figure. Over Koz's shoulder, she took in the kid's blonde head, and the darker, long locks of the girl behind him: obviously his T-shirt girlfriend, Mia.

"Ever heard of fuckin' knocking?" Kozik hissed, lowering his weapon.

The commotion in the main room had the doors to both bedrooms opening. Juice with Ava tucked behind him stood at the threshold of one. RJ and Tux stepped out of the other.

RJ had his gun in hand. "What the shit's goin' on out here?"

Cassie sat up, sheet pulled up to her chin, and saw Juice make another fruitless stab at keeping his wife behind him. He looked still half-asleep, whereas Ava had figured out the noisemakers were non-threatening. "Carter?" Juice asked. "You been gone for, like…three days. Shit! Where've you been?"

The Charming member's smile was priceless: a mix of joy, pride, and terror. "Um…we kinda just got married."

**-O-**

Ava spat her toothpaste in the sink and then moved aside so Juice could run his razor under the tap again. Shared bathroom time had seemed really cute…the first week they'd been married. Now they had their morning routine with one sink down to a science at home, so they'd decided to save some time in the cabin and go it together.

"You haven't said much," Juice said as he dragged the razor across his cheek again.

She popped her toothbrush back in its plastic tube and shook her head. "About Carter?"

"Yeah."

"Not my place."

She could tell he tried not to laugh, but he couldn't help it, chuckling quietly. "_O_-kay."

Ava frowned at her reflection as she uncoiled the towel she'd wrapped her hair up with and finger-combed the snarls from the wet strands. The older she became, the more she was realizing that, though Gemma had sage advice, she wasn't always the best person to emulate. Her explosive opinions weren't beneficial to anyone: and she knew there'd be no changing Carter's mind. "It isn't," she insisted. "He can marry whoever he wants."

Juice laughed. "That's like sticking a cork in a volcano. You might as well let it out now before you say it in front of him." He handed her the tube of vitamin E enriched lotion and presented her with his tattoo. "Do my back?"

"I'm not gonna pass judgment," Ava said, taking the lotion and squirting a dollop onto her fingertips. She frowned to herself as she rubbed it into the newly-inked skin on her Old Man's back. "I've had my share of issues and it would be wrong for me to -," he was still laughing. "Oh, for Christ's sakes, they've known each other a week, Juice! A week!"

"Shit," through the mirror, she saw him physically wipe away his smile with a hand across his mouth. But it came back anyway. "Maybe now I won't be the biggest dumbass in Charming."

She had to grin, shook her head a fraction. "You were never that." Ava capped the lotion and he turned around. He had a terrible poker face, and while that was a dangerous weakness out there in the big world, she appreciated that fact at home. She got to see the sparkle in his eyes when he was complimented.

The air shifted between them and she knew the Carter and Mia issue had been put off on some obscure back burner.

"So," Juice said, his smile shifting gears, becoming the one she knew was just hers. "Worth the trip?"

"Jesus…overall? Yeah, I guess. But I will not miss Sturgis."

"So that's a no on next year?"

"Definitely."

She stretched her neck as he leaned down and smiled against his lips when they kissed. "We made it, though," she said quietly as they pulled apart.

He rested his forehead against hers a moment. "Yeah we did."

Because no matter how crazy the week had been, that was the important thing.

**-O-**

Cassie had no opinion whatsoever about Mrs….well, she didn't know Carter's last name, but Mia seemed like a sweet girl. She didn't have a thought in her head about the young couple, aside from thanking Mia for helping her pack up the foodstuffs. The lanky brunette seemed a little anxious about their departure, and Cass had long ago learned that staying busy was the best cure for that.

"Is this all its stuff?" Leon asked as he picked up the plastic shopping bag that contained Nikki's litter pan, dishes, kitten formula and food. The scruffy-looking prospect had the orange kitten held in his other hand and it was a comical, but cute image.

"Yeah," Cassie stepped forward to give her new baby one last scratch on top of its head. He was going to ride in the truck with Leon and Cappy back to Tacoma.

Koz snorted as he came into the cabin. "Anything happens to that cat on the way home," he warned the prospect, "and you might as well just keep on driving till you hit Canada."

"Aww," Cass welcomed her man with a grin as Leon took his charge out with a stiff nod. "You do love him."

"Not exactly, but chasing two assholes through Canada would be a handy excuse to steer clear of the meltdown you'd have."

She rolled her eyes and handed him the saddle bag she'd crammed full of her belongings. All their souvenirs save his sweatshirt were in shipping boxes on their way back to Tacoma. She and Ava had gone to the post office the day before and had gone through Ava's cell phone photo gallery – since she was using the cheap replacement cell Koz had bought as a holdover till they got home – while they waited in line, talking about their sons, trading stories. Then they'd typed their respective numbers and email addresses into one another's phones.

"This it?" Koz asked, shouldering the bag. "You wanna do one more check?"

For an outlaw, the man could be downright motherly at times. She smirked. "I've checked five times and – ,"

"Morning, all!" Janine Devine was much too loud for eight a.m., but that wasn't going to stop her. She had arrived in the doorway and her pose screamed of Hollywood and all things dramatic, booted feet planted on the hardwood, arm thrust in the air with a camera clenched in one hand. "I'm cataloguing memories, so if you could all step outside, please."

RJ was coming out of the bunk room, cigarette held between his teeth. "And if we don't?"

Janine's smile never wavered. "Oh, it's not up for negotiation, sweetheart."

**-O-**

They were a ragtag group that posed in front of cabin six. Juice had two black eyes and a busted lip left over from his fight with Roman. Koz was a little busted up thanks to Tig. Cassie had one shiner, scratched up arms and a knot on her forehead – mud wrestling, Ava's nails and the blonde bimbo. Ava knew her scabby knees were visible through the holes she'd torn in her jeans. Carter had a bruise hidden under the sleeve of his shirt where one of the Top Cays had slugged him, and his…wife…had a distinct hickey on her neck.

"You know, I think I'm the prettiest one here," RJ commented.

"Dunno," Tux said, "I'm kinda pretty too."

"Yeah, you are."

"Alright, y'all," Janine snapped her fingers to capture their collective attention. She stood on the gravel drive, camera in hand, trying to arrange them all. "Squish together a little bit…there, like that. Mayday, you're gonna have to duck down, honey. I'm cuttin' off the top of your head."

"She reminds me of Gemma," Carter said in a stage whisper, "on a whole bottle of Prozac."

"I heard that!" But the Tacoma queen didn't sound angry. "Okay, everybody say 'Sturgis'!"

There was a resounding chorus of "Sturgis!" and the camera went off with a flash.

"I'll email everyone copies," Janine promised as she headed toward the next cabin and the next group of photographic victims.

As they disbanded and went back to their separate tasks, Ava was struck, for the first time, that the week had come to a close. Admittedly, there wasn't anything to miss about this raucous little town – she had her own raucous little town back home, with her own home, own space and decidedly fewer drunks wandering the streets. But having everyone together like this had been, mostly, fun.

She found Cassie beside Koz's bike, and took a deep breath as she approached. Wow, she was really bad at this whole friend thing, wasn't she? But she was trying. Because she wanted to, and that felt like a big step.

"Hey."

Cass had been stowing something in the Dyna's saddle bag and glanced up. "Hey." She stood and brushed her hands off on her jeans. Her smile indicated she wasn't quite sure how to handle this either. "We got our deposit back. The girl in the office said she was pretty sure the place was cleaner than when she rented it out to us. I worried about the picture frame, but Mayday did a good job with the super glue. Deft fingers for a large man…God, I'm babbling. I hate goodbyes."

Ava did too. "I'm sure we'll talk again."

"I hope so." Cass toed at the gravel, glanced across the drive to where Ava knew Koz was standing. Even if she didn't need his help or company at the moment, her eyes wanted to follow him. It was one of those unconscious, honest reflexes you couldn't fake. And Ava knew that all these boys had tons of fake at their beck and call, but that real was rare and to be revered.

She took a deep breath – she wasn't sure she'd ever expected to say this to anyone. "You've got him hooked: line and sinker all that fishing metaphor shit." The other girl's eyes came back. "And I'm glad. He needs someone to keep his ass in line. Too long alone and they turn into…Tig."

Cassie choked on a laugh. "Not sure time was a contributing factor there, but yeah, I'll try my best."

"Well…" Ava was determined not to let it get too awkward. "You guys have a safe trip back to Tacoma, okay?" She was the one who initiated the hug, and Cass returned it.

"I'm really glad I got to meet you."

"Me too."

"Look at this. Hugging and everything." Ava pulled back and saw that Koz had joined them, looking smug. He dropped an arm across both their shoulders. "I can't decide if it's a miracle or some kinda evil spell."

"Ha," Ava pushed at him, but he wasn't letting go. "You know you're glad."

"Never said I wasn't."

When she glanced up at him, she saw that he was smiling like she hadn't seen in a while – maybe not in years. And any woman who could tap into the younger, less-troubled Koz of her youth was okay in her book.

"Hey," she heard Juice's voice behind them. "You know your mom's gonna want a picture. Turn around, you guys."

"Ah, come on, bad as Janine," Koz grumbled, but he pivoted around anyway, both his girls under his arms. Juice had his phone out, grinning like…well…an idiot, and it made Ava grin too. Until her face hurt.

"Smile," Juice instructed, though they already were. "Say 'can't wait to get the fuck home from Sturgis'."

**The Long Ride Home…**

Ava was pretty sure the Redwood clubhouse was a ghost town tonight: everyone was partied the hell out and just wanted to be at home. She leaned back on her mom's couch and hugged a sleepy Sam against her chest. It was late, but everyone was fighting yawns.

"He missed his mama," Maggie said. She had finally parked it on the loveseat after insisting they all have a snack and a drink. Ava knew that she and Juice and Sam and Chibs had all collectively become "her babies", and she was beaming to have them back.

Ava pressed a kiss to the top of her own baby's soft, downy head, breathing in the familiar smell of his Johnson & Johnson shampoo. "I missed you so, so, so, so much," she told him, and heard Juice chuckle beside her.

"She was having nightmares about him forgetting who she was."

"Aye, he looked real confused," Chibs said with a laugh. Sam had practically launched himself into her arms when they'd walked through the door.

"Is he gonna have a little brother or sister to keep him company?" Maggie asked.

Juice groaned. "There's something fun to discuss with the in-laws..."

Ava crossed her fingers and held them up for her mom to see.

**-O-**

It was the absolute dead of night when Koz let his knees buckle and fell back across Cassie's bed. The mattress made a soft sound as he landed in the middle of it, and it cushioned his fall with heavenly softness. It was a big, soft marshmallow of a cloud compared to the pull-out sofa shit they'd spent the past week on, which, he couldn't help but chuckle, inspired visions of the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man from _Ghostbusters. _

Cassie had been setting up the cat's litter box in the bathroom and emerged at the sound of his laugh, head tilted in question. She looked exhausted, but not disheveled: the girl always had an air of composed elegance about her. "You alright?"

He nodded. "Never better. Why?"

"Just checking." She reached down and wearily began removing her boots, had to brace a hand on the arm of her chair to keep from toppling over. She set them off to the side, shimmied out of her jeans and climbed onto the bed beside him with a grateful sigh. "Oh, it's good to be home."

Koz rolled his head to the side and watched her stretch out next to him. Her face was still a mess of bruises that had made her mother gasp, but she looked content. Sleepy. He grinned. "My tough, rough-and-tumble girl, huh?"

She hiccupped a laugh. "That description should make me cringe," she popped up on one elbow, "but it makes me proud." Another laugh. "Or maybe I'm just crazy."

"Crazy yes – you fit right in – but proud's good. Everybody can see sexy, they can tell if you're smart, but the other shit takes a while to shine through."

"Other shit?" she asked with raised brows.

"The tough part. Not everybody's cut out for this life."

Cassie snuggled in closer and propped her chin on his chest so that he was now looking up at her. Again, he took a mental step back and marveled at how entangled he'd become, on so many levels. Thankfully, none of his married brothers had forced him to eat the big helping of crow he was due. "Did I thank you for taking me along on a run yet?" she asked in a low, sultry voice full of genuine gratitude. She'd known all along it had nothing to do with concerts, beers and bad sleeping arrangements – 'cause who in the hell would thank a guy for that?

Koz smirked. "You thanked me _before_ we left." Her eyes danced and he knew his decision had been the right one. He looped an arm around her shoulders, pulled up along his chest until he could kiss the top of her head. "I'm gonna need two closets minimum."

His Old Lady bolted upright, one of her hands planted on his chest. Her eyes went saucer-wide, lips parted, but she looked like she was afraid to speak, for fear she'd misinterpreted. Finally, because he thought she was holding her breath, he nodded.

Cassie blinked a few times, her lips trembled, but there was no overkill emo bullshit – he hadn't expected any and would have been really disappointed to see her get overly emotional about this. Thankfully, her composure held. She nodded. "I've been meaning to pare down my wardrobe anyway." Her smile was excellent. "Thank you, baby. I'll make you happy, Koz, I promise."

**Two Weeks Later**

"So you survived your first kid party," RJ snickered as he took a seat next to Koz on the garden bench in Cassie's back yard.

Koz shot his friend a flat look. "Yeah, I did. Come to think of it, so did you."

"On into the fires of Mount Doom, I would follow your lead, Frodo."

He rolled his eyes. "You showed up for the beer and free food. Don't kid yourself."

RJ shrugged. "Cass can cook, I'll give her that. And then there's the entertainment; let's not forget that." The two shared a look - both knowing the subject of discussion being when Cass, her friend Sonia and a few of the other grown girls had taken a turn at the moon bounce. "Shonn and Byron were tossin' around the idea of buyin' one of those things for the club house. Co-Ed drunken bouncing – sounds kinda hot."

Koz nodded in agreement.

A beat passed in silence. "Hey, you doin' a'ight?" a serious note of concern edged into the biker's voice. "This whole takin' it up a notch thing. Co-habitating. It goin' okay?"

"What the fuck kind of TV are you watching? _Co-habitating?_ Christ, what ever happened to good ol' shackin' up?"

"You're a dinosaur, Kozik."

"I fucking feel like one." He shook his head, leaning forward to brace his forearms on his knees because, how appropriate, his back hurt. "I don't think I mapped out this play very well. Maybe cause her mom's still in town…I don't fuckin' know. I mean, she was right, I was practically living here anyway. But making the actual jump to officially living here…I'm claustrophobic or some shit."

"Don't go there, brother."

"Nah, nah, just hear me out." Because now that he was talking, he realized he needed to. "Last night I came home and Cass and Dinah were up to their eyeballs in party shit. Probably cooked all goddamn day with Luc's dairy allergy – Cass don't like to buy food for the kid, don't blame her…but, whatever. Anyway, they had the old man's jukebox on, both of them singing along to Croce."

"Not 'Time in a Bottle', right?"

"Nobody likes that shit. Nah, 'Bad, Bad Leroy Brown'." He glanced over at his club brother. "You think Jack would actually waste space with 'Time in a Bottle'? The fuck, man?"

RJ nodded in agreement. He knew that Jack Kozik's most cherished possession had been his vintage Wullitzer jukebox. He'd kept the thing in mint condition and stocked with classic 45s. It had been housed in a storage unit away from his wife, known for her fly-off-the-handle-and-break-shit rages. It was the only thing Koz had left over from his old man. It, Mistress and his cut were, in no particular order, the things Koz most cared about – at least as far as inanimate objects went – and then there were his guns, but those he thought about as living extensions of himself. But the Wullitzer was near and dear. Cassie had loved it and he'd seen the beast of metal and glass sticking out like a sore thumb amid the chosen decor of her family room off the kitchen. Then again, it could only have blended in at a retro diner...

"It was funny as hell," Koz continued. "Then I asked Cass how she knew the song and she said she used to listen to it with her dad all the time. When Brig was messin' around in the garage."

"And?" RJ prompted.

"And suddenly I felt real fuckin' old. Every single day of the seventeen years between us was staring me right in the face. You wanna take a stab at how old Papa Brig would be if he was still kicking?" When RJ didn't venture a guess, he frowned. "Fifty-three. I'm six years younger than her dad."

"So you're robbin' the cradle," he said. "It ain't the worst age gap we've ever seen."

Koz sighed, getting the hint, but shook his head. "I can't get it out of my head. I don't know what I'm doin' here."

"Look," RJ took a deep, tired-sounding breath and let it out in a rush. "My ball bustin' aside, this thing you got goin' on with Cass, it's a good thing, brother. You deserve this, you _need_ this. 'Amazing Grace' didn't save wretches like us - the love of a good woman did. I don't need to tell you I learned that lesson half-past too late. Don't fuck this up. Cassie, her bat-ass crazy kid, they are the right kind of drama. "

Koz wasn't sure if he should be amused, worried his friend had been abducted by body-snatchers, or grateful. "You done?"

"Yeah. I'm gonna head out, before I get harassed into helping to clean up."

He watched him go, listening to the blessed quiet of a yard no longer teeming with children, then scooped up the handful of paper plates he'd been collecting before this much-too-revealing, slightly-womanish conversation had happened and went into the house through the back door. He passed Cassie on his way in who told him there was an industrial garbage bag waiting for him inside.

The women had made fast work of the interior and the kitchen was almost back to its original order. Dinah was at the sink, rinsing out serving bowls and spoons.

Koz trashed the plates and lingered. He knew it was stupid, but he couldn't shake what had been troubling him since the night before. The age thing bothered him – but only to a degree, he didn't exactly seek out women his own age at club parties – but it was something more. He hadn't been introspective enough throughout the course of his life to be able to label it properly. RJ had been helpful, but maybe he needed further reassurance. "Hey, D. Ask you something?"

Her eyes cut over and crinkled at the corners when she gave the smallest of smiles. The look said a lot. "I'd say you've earned the right, dear."

"Cassie's dad... I've seen the pictures... I know the pertinent shi... stuff... I know for a fact that... " what? He couldn't put together the words he needed to without sounding like some kind of asshole.

Dinah cleared her throat. "That you're closer in age to Brig than Cassie?"

She'd hit the nail on the head. He shrugged, scratched at his eyebrow with his thumb.

She made a _tsk_ing sound against her cheek. "Cassandra doesn't have 'daddy-issues', I think it's the women who had horrific fathers who try repeatedly to 'find and fix'. Luca was a wonderful father - so _no_. Everything is fine. There are a lot of similarities, but I think it happens quite often or they wouldn't say 'a girl will either marry a man just like her father or his polar opposite'." Dinah laughed. "Guess, come to think of it, she's chosen to explore both extremes. Lord knows Purcell wasn't a shred like Brig...but you…that goes well beyond the good looks and motorcycles." She shook her head and turned back toward the sink. "Both Marines, neither of you believe in half-measures."

Koz nodded, twitched a half-smile. "Both known to go by the motto 'sometimes it's entirely appropriate to kill a fly with a sledgehammer'." Dinah smiled and he snorted a laugh. "Cassie's words – I kinda like 'em."

"She knew she could always count on her father: Brig had her back. Loyal and fiercely protective. I believe Sturgis proved the same of you." Another of those pointed looks came his way, like the woman could see all the way through him, and somehow approved of what she found there. "Luca would like you."

The back door opened and Cassie poked her head in. "Koz, will you help me with something?"

"Sure." Dinah had been reassuring, but too much mother time made him itchy.

Cassie eyed her mom. "Ma, leave the dishes, I've got them and you've had a long day."

Dinah shook her head. "They're done anyway, sweetie. I was just rinsing out the sink." She turned off the tap as if to prove her point. "I think Lucas had a blast with his friends."

Cassie opened the door a little bit further, leaning against the frame. "Yeah, made out like a bandit. We will be up to our knees in Legos. And I think the holsters were his favorite," she glanced his way as she said it, her eyes sparkling with a tired warmth. Koz knew she was remembering her kid's reaction to the child-sized shoulder holsters she'd purchased at a South Dakota tannery: _"now I can be just like Koz." _She turned her attention back to her mother. "You want to go out for breakfast before your flight?"

Koz left them to discuss their morning plans and returned to the back deck, enjoying the late summer night. Cassie joined him a moment later, passing him and flicking with her fingers for him to follow her across the lawn. "What's up?"

Cassie smiled at him over her shoulder as she headed for the hulking behemoth that had provided the day's entertainment. "Your assistance is required down at the moon bounce."

"Thought the guy was coming tomorrow to tear this monstrosity down." He eyed the inflatable beast – fucking thing had to be half a football field long. Green, red and yellow, it was comprised of three separate bounce areas, slides, a rope-net climb, a ball pit and God knew what else. And it was admittedly encroaching on the neighbor's property.

"They are. Bright and early," Cass assured, hoisting herself up and turning to sit on the inflated entrance. "But it's still here now..." Her hand was on the hem of her t-shirt and she tugged it over her head, her skin silvery in the moonlight this recessed area of the backyard afforded. "Wanna bounce with me, baby?"

When she looked at him like that he didn't feel so damn old. _The love of a good woman_. He breathed in and the smell of the late summer honeysuckle mixed with the scent of her perfume tickled his nostrils. In a really good damn way. "Yeah. I do," he answered with a grin.

**Four Weeks Later**

Three minutes had never seemed so long. Ava clicked her nails against the bathroom floor tile; she was sitting with her back against the doorjamb that separated bed from bath, and stared at the two test sticks sitting on the counter. A cocktail of anxiety, excitement and nervous jitters was churching through her bloodstream, spiked with adrenaline as the egg timer counted down the seconds.

Juice was sitting on the edge of the tub, elbows on his knees, one bare foot bouncing up and down. The change in his pocket jangled. And instead of watching the sticks, as she was, he watched her, like the magical sign would come from her somehow when the timer went off.

"I'm only a week late," she reminded, even though she'd already said it a dozen times.

"Four weeks since we left Sturgis though."

She nodded and nibbled at her bottom lip. They had talked, dreamed and planned, had hoped, but now the moment felt heavy. In a good way of course, but heavy nonetheless. If the clear plastic window showed a plus sign, and she was…this changed things forever.

_Ding!_

They started at the sound of the timer, shared a look, and Ava was the one who stood up to check the sticks. Both were the same, so she only picked up one as she turned to Juice at the bathtub. He sat back a little, head stretched up on his neck.

"Is it…?"

"Positive." Ava put a loose hand around the base of her throat as currents of emotion ran like electricity down her limbs, making her weak. "It's positive."

"Wow," Juice said after a long moment of silence.

She'd already had one baby, but this was different. This was her baby with Juice, and Ava was without words to even process all the ways that carried meaning with her. She needed to go to the doc, get a confirmation because it was still early…God, it was so early. But now, her eyes welled up and she couldn't hope to contain her tears.

When she glanced down at Juice, he looked shaky. His eyes seemed huge and maybe a little shiny. This was his first baby, biologically speaking, this was huge for him. They had Sam, and he was her first born and her link to Hap and the most special thing in her life. Juice adored Sam, loved him like he was his own kid…but this span of time in the bathroom was just about the two of them, and the tiny fetus that was _theirs_.

He took gentle hold of her hips and pulled her in to stand between his legs. Ava's tears threatened to turn into sobs when he leaned forward and kissed her still-flat belly through her t-shirt. Then he laid his cheek over her womb and wrapped his arms tight around her waist. Ava sagged and leaned down so she could hug his neck, and set her chin on top of his head.

"You happy, Mama?" he asked, voice muffled against her middle.

She nodded, his mohawk prickling against her skin. "So happy, baby."

**Two More Weeks  
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Poor Mia Michaels – Ava had no idea what her maiden name had been, but now she was a Michaels – had been the subject of every Old Lady's scrutiny during dinner. It was a Sunday night at Gemma's and the young, pretty new wife had made her first appearance in front of Gemma and Maggie. It hadn't been pretty.

"Um…" she stammered now as every set of eyes at the Morrow dining room table stayed glued to her.

Gemma, who'd asked if they were looking at houses, tossed her bangs with a haughty shake of her head and snorted. "Well you can't just shack up at the clubhouse permanently."

Mia blushed and glanced down at her plate. Carter's hand landed on her wrist in a silent show of comfort, but he didn't dare say anything that might get him in trouble with the once and always queen.

Ava felt Juice lean into her side. "Brutal," he muttered under his breath and she nodded. Though it wasn't really in her nature, she hated to see the girl suffer under such scrutiny. Maybe because she was hoping her own suspicions about the inevitable breaking apart of Mia and Carter's one week courtship wouldn't happen. And maybe because she knew what it was like to be nineteen and stupidly in love. But whatever the reason, she cleared her throat loudly, gaining Bobby and Tux's attentions.

"We have some news," she said, and that got her the rest of the crew.

"News?" Juice asked. "Oh, _ohhhh_…" he chuckled. "Okay."

From down the table, Carter mouth _thank you_, and she gave him a nod. Then felt an excited smile bloom across her face. "Sturgis was successful." Maggie gasped, but most everyone else seemed confused. "I'm pregnant."

The dining room erupted with what could only be described as a vocal bomb: everyone started talking at once. Chairs were pushed back and food was forgotten as the two of them were hugged and congratulated. Maggie squeezed her the hardest and when she whispered, "I'm so proud of you," in a choked voice, Ava knew she wasn't just talking about the pregnancy, but about so much more; about her personal triumph after all she'd been through. Juice's too.

When the walls started to close in on her, she slipped out onto the back patio with her cell phone. "Gotta get on the horn to Tacoma before they hear it secondhand," she explained to Juice and then shut herself outside in the dark quiet of night.

With a sigh, she plopped down on one of Gem's chaises and began scrolling through her contact list. She hit _send_ when she found the number she was after and listened to the other line ring twice.

"Hello?"

"Cassie? It's Ava."

"Oh, hey!" Ava heard voices in the background, one distinctly male. She felt instantly guilty: it was dinner time. "Hold on a sec."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt -,"

"It's fine…it's Ava," she was obviously explaining to Koz, then the sounds receded. "Okay. No big deal – I was happy to be pulled away from the what-happens-after-you-catch-the-fish explanation."

Ava chuckled.

"So what's up?"

They'd communicated mainly through email since Sturgis, but the phone calls had been happening, slow but sure. Ava was coming to realize she did in fact like having another female presence in her life who she wasn't related to. "Family dinner at Gemma's."

"And that's Jax's mom, right?"

"Yep. The Queen Mother. Her royal highness, and the like." She picked at the inseam of her jeans. "I sprang big news on everyone and figured I'd pass it along before the rumor mill got to churning down here."

There was a quick pause. "Big news as in…"

"I'm pregnant!"

"Oh, that's great!" Cassie sounded genuinely excited. She was glad for her and not just saying things. "I'm so happy for you guys. Really, Ava, congrats. Tell Juice I said so too."

"I will." She heard the door open and close behind her and a quick glance over her shoulder showed that Juice had come to join her. "Speak of the devil…" she grinned.

Cassie chuckled. "I'll let us both get back to our menfolk. Keep me posted?"

"Absolutely."

They traded goodbyes and she had disconnected the call by the time Juice was sitting beside her on the chaise. "Who'd you call?"

"Cassie."

"Before Janine?" his smile spread, teeth gleaming white and dazzling in the light thrown by the decorative sconces. His brows scaled his forehead in mild disbelief. "You guys are friends, aren't you? It's okay, you can admit it."

"Would you grow up?" she rolled her eyes, but leaned into his offered shoulder, welcoming the warmth of his arm across her shoulders. "She said congrats."

He chuckled. "So does…everyone in there."

"Surprised you're not in there hamming it up."

"Me too."

A soft breeze came rippling across the patio, bringing with it the first hint of fall. Ava reached for his hand where it dangled over her shoulder, laced their fingers together. He felt solid and sturdy around her – not the tallest man to ever come into her life, or the most shocking, the most daring…but in so many ways, he was the strongest. He'd sat with her on the end of the bed the night of September first, in the dark, not having to say a thing when the brave front she'd put on that day had come crumbling down and she'd succumbed to the tears that had been threatening. He'd let her cry for the anniversary of Hap's death.

But each time she thought about the new life growing inside her, when she held Sam and knew she had another on the way, her gut didn't fill up with dread or grief. This pregnancy was going to be so different than the last.

She didn't realize she was smiling until he kissed her temple and asked, "what?"

"Nothing," she assured, turning her grin up to him. "Just…happy." His face looked ready to split in two. "What about you?"

"Proud," he said with a self-assured nod. "I knocked your cute ass up on the first try, baby! My shit works!"

**The End**


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